Archive of Our Own

It's hard to tell, whether she is on the right path here.

But that’s not a new feeling, and she persists either way. Going around attempting to gather information; being saddled with a myriad of jobs as she does; trying to ignore the shifty side eyes and pointed jabs and disrespect that get thrown her way. It doesn’t matter anyways. It’s always been like this.

Even if some of it does manage to get past her skin.

(She tries to bury the memory of the embarrassing outburst she had at the damn vending machine. At least it lent her some progress…)

She similarly tries to brush past the words of that strange maiden- instead choosing to focus on her potential work abilities (that fellow entrepreneur wanted an entity that was good at organizing, right?), succeeding in getting a blood sample out of the gal.

She does not think about how that one sentence hit her somewhere deep in her code.

( Rude entities like you get punished for the sins of others )

She does not.

Instead, her eyes find the strange growth on the building next to her- coming up to inspect it, trying to see if she can dig past it- but it’s surprisingly tough. Though, staring at a piece of it now, her mind still on that business woman… her name was Coral Glasses, right…? And she said she’s not from around here?

She pockets the otherworldly artifact.

The rest of it a bit of a blur. She helps a fellow worker. Gets taken to a graveyard. Somehow ends up at a party. Can’t leave. Gets told to smile. Gets transmogrified. Gets eaten.

At least she eventually makes it to the Bathroom.

At least she gets the job done.

(Giving up a part of herself is just in the job description. Getting split in two is just in the job description. Being unforgivable, irredeemable, punishable for existing is just in the job description.

Dying at the end is just in the job description, too.

It’s a good thing she always bounces back.)

Coral was just rereading her job description for the 37- no, 38th time, fingers slick with sweat and worries still rampant on how exactly she’s going to do all of this, when something in the scene before her- changes.

It's just a flicker in her peripheral vision. A glitch. But it’s enough to notice, and then, she’s staring at ENA – convulsing on the ground, form shifting and morphing and twisting erratically for what feels like way too long- before with a slice and a shing, she is back. Smiling. Empty-eyed.

Froggy, who before that had been having a way too loud argument(??) with Dratula, turns to her, and disgruntled, says, “Oi. Quit being so unprofessional, people will get the wrong idea.”

Coral, now (admittedly) interested, shifts forward.

ENA doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even seem to have heard him. She’s still just sitting there, like a marionette with broken strings and no thoughts behind its head.

Froggy notices this also, of course. “Hello?” he steps closer, waving a big hand in front of ENA’s face. “Moon to ENA? You in there?”

ENA doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, but her pupils belatedly, silently, spring onto Froggy’s form. And then stay there.

Froggy sighs. “Have you taken something?”

Finally, ENA unfreezes. “No!” Her white side yells, claws digging into the ground. “ What do you take me for, some kind of party animal?”

Coral can’t see Froggy’s expression from here, but she can see him cross his arms - presumably, in disappointment? “I don’t know. With that stunt you pulled at the purge… are you?”

“That-“ ENA stammers, expression flickering for a second- emotions all too quick to read, but none of them happy, that’s for sure. “-was part of the job mission. We shall not speak of that wretched event again.”

After a bit, Froggy shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

Coral doesn’t have the slightest idea what they are talking about- but she’s not gonna butt in and impose with her misplaced curiosity. Instead, she busies herself with shuffling through her papers again- 1/3 reading, 1/4 being distracted by her own mind telling her to read, and 5/12 still having ears on whatever’s going on with her coworkers, as ENA- with less fluidity than her usual motions possess- braces herself against the wall and stands up, and then brushes herself off.

And she begins, “So,” her voice having switched to the more pleasant, deeper tone, one hand on her hip and the other gesticulating, “We are done with the smoke business, yes? And now we can head on to deal with the Boss and put him in his place?”

“Hrrmmm…” Froggy grumbles, shoulders squaring uncertainly. “that would be the case, except- you know, you did a good job and all, and some of the smoke has cleared- but not all, y’know? There’s-“ he coughs, waving his hand a bit, “there’s still some left, and you know how my condition is… Ahhh I just can’t get my legs wet in these conditions, y’know?”

Coral doesn’t know. If Coral were to be perfectly, brutally honest- and she feels bad for thinking like this- she’s kinda starting to wonder if Froggy is just saying this to get off of doing work a bit longer. But what does she know? She’s a smoker herself, so she can’t exactly judge on that front.

And more importantly-

ENA’s face stutters. “But I-“ it flashes once, twice- before her usual smile manifests instead, and she acquiesces, “…Very well, my friend! Where to next, then?”

Froggy drums his fingers on his hip. “You dealt with the smoke by reaching the Lonely Door’s genie, yeah?”

“The Bathroom, yes.”

“Yes, yes, the bathroom,” he dismisses with a wave, then continues, “Do you think it’d be the case for the others, too? Like, it being just a matter of contacting the genies? Cause then we might have a pretty simple path on our hands.”

“Simple path,” ENA utters. Then, still smiling, “Right. Target- contact the genies. Got it.”

“Right. So? You up for it?”

ENA nods.

And then- she suddenly turns her eyes to Coral- who quickly looks to her papers, her coral making noises- and says, “but before I go- just a minute,” and makes her way over.

Coral sweats.

“Hello, fellow entrepreneur!” ENA greets as she stops in front of her, voice bolder than before. Coral looks up and pretends like she didn’t just eavesdrop their entire prior conversation.

“Oh- h-hello. ENA, was it?” stupid, stupid, why are you acting like you don’t remember her?

But ENA just grins. “Got it in one!” Coral finds her eyes drawn to the fluid motions of her hands waving around. “I had an inquiry, if you’d allow me- have you considered the candidate I sent your way?”

“Oh…” Coral sweats. She knows exactly who ENA is talking about. And it’s kinda… “um. You know- I have… but…” she rubs her neck, her nails scratching against her skin slightly. “Do you… think she’s qualified?”

“She says she’s very good at organizing bosses! And words. And other, presumably useful things.” ENA answers, simply.

“Yes, I… got that. I just…”

For the first time when directed at her, the white side of ENA comes into play. “What? If you’re so particular, you can just go out in the field and search yourself!”

“No, no- uh. You’re right. No,” Coral amends, sweat climbing her neck and muscles tensing at the rise in volume. ENA’s gaze is suddenly very… sharp. “I’ll…” she stammers. Then sighs, relenting. “I’ll think about it… thank you, ENA.” For good measure, she tries to smile.

She doesn’t expect much in response. Maybe a glare. Or a grumble. Or something equally dissatisfied.

But instead, ENA’s face falls slack, eyes slightly widening. And she just- stares, like that, for a moment.

Coral frowns, confused by the reaction. Has- has she never been thanked befo-

But she can’t finish the thought, because suddenly, ENA is in her face, hands shooting out- and for a second, Coral fears she’s going to throw them around her or something, but no- she’s just gesticulating, as usual, fingers rattling like she can’t seem to decide between grabbing and offering. “By the ways! I have a deal for you, a splendid product, something you’ll surely be bewitched by and wish to have in your collection! A once in a lifetime proposal!”

Coral sweats, leaning back slightly. “Oh- uh, sorry, I don’t have any money on me right now…” Well, she does- but she hasn’t converted the currencies yet, and she’s not sure what seashells sell for around these parts.

ENA clicks her tongue. (Does she have a tongue?) “Not to worry, my friend, I will give you a coupon for this time. Limited offer! The discount? I get to see you walk away a little happier.”

She winks.

Okay. That’s… Coral is interested. And a little-not-so-little flattered. Is ENA trying to butter her up? For what reason? And more importantly, what exactly is ENA trying to sell her even? It sounds.. impressive. A year's supply of ink? A fix for her printer jamming issue? An application that she could send to all her bosses that thoroughly explains why she needs a step by step on every action and how she'd like to not stray from that? 98% chance says no, but one could only imagine--

It's a rock.

What ENA is holding out to her in her hands, like a precious shellwork, is a rock.

Or-

No.

When Coral looks closer, she quickly realizes that’s wrong. It’s not a rock. It’s got a lot of little extrusions and indents. It looks dried out. It seems extremely, painfully familiar.

It's a piece of coral. Like, from home, type of piece of coral.

Coral takes the gift from ENA’s hands with childish care and wonder.

“…Where did you get this?” She asks, homesickness suddenly hitting her like nothing else.

ENA grins at her, her arm spinning around her along with the hat she's holding onto. “Just a peculiar find on my way to the Bath- I mean, the genie. Thought you might be interested. Are you?”

Coral holds the coral to her chest. It’s a little silly, but- it does actually touch her that ENA even thought of her, like this. “Yes. This is… lovely, ENA. Thank you…”

Once more, ENA seems to be a little at a loss for words- but her smile is blinding (why is Coral’s chest tight all of a sudden?), and after a moment, she seems to get her lips working, as she says, “well- Wonderful! I’ll keep this intel in mind for future endeavors. You’ve now become a subscriber to my temporary bi-weekly delivery service - leave a review at the door when you leave, or yell “NO” to unsubscribe.”

Suddenly, Coral feels like she might have fallen to a scheme.

But it doesn’t quite quiet the warm feeling in her chest even still- even as she watches ENA bounce off to wherever she is meant to go next, even as she goes to her dingy, quiet rented apartment at the end of the day, even as she stares at the piece of coral now resting on her nightstand as she lays in bed. It stays there. Warm. Solid.

It's nice to be thought about.

She wonders what ENA will bring her next.

The tearing of warning tape, stepping past prohibition and ignoring the irate, denying voice behind.

Hungry stares following her in dozens, shadows tailing her gait, too long fingers failing to grasp. She forces her feet forwards.

Getting them wet, then her hips, her arms, her head – senses nullified and eyes set on the prize. There’s an intercom ringing in her ears. There’s a voice demanding her to leave.

She does what she needs to do, she tries and fails and tries and succeeds – she fills slot after slot, shot after shot, even as the shadows grow larger over her head.

She wins.

She meets the one in charge.

Besides the undying fire billowing bubbles and smoke into the atmosphere, there’s a figurine of a clownfish sitting innocently on his desk.

Before she gets the job done, she snatches it before she can get killed.

Then she gets killed.

It doesn’t matter. She got what she came here for.

The next time Coral talks to ENA, she is – undeniably and inexplicably – wet.

She had just been making some calls- particularly tired after a particular call with a particular now-employed woman- when ENA had approached her, soaking head to toe, one hand hidden behind her back. Coral stares.

“Uh,” she comments, feeling silly. “do you want to dry off, or…?”

“No matter!” ENA barks out, shaking her head out a bit like a dog and spritzing Coral in the process. Coral doesn’t mind the water, of course, but- it is a little unprofessional – she thinks, wiping the droplets off of her glasses. Meanwhile, ENA has already began her apparently usual tirade. “I come to you today on the matter of your subscription! See, I have another offer for you – one perhaps of even greater value! I got this off of a very wealthy individual, yes! Very wealthy, very- contended. I believe it belongs with you now.”

“Oh,” Coral utters, interest and excitement mingling in her stomach, leaning to the sides a bit to try to peek at what ENA is hiding. ENA doesn’t let her, arm seemingly automatically rotating out of her sight. “That’s- interesting. What is it?”

ENA smiles at her, seeming to pause for dramatic effect as her free, clawed hand drums a silent drumroll, until she unveils her hidden hand, and-

It’s a little anemonefish.

Coral stares at it, at all the little details – it is indeed expensive looking, orange shimmering base swirling with more intricate patterns, opal adorning the white parts of the figurine, beady, black eyes staring at her back… she wants it. She really wants it, it’s very pretty. She’s never been one for collecting things and knick-knacks and the like, but she thinks she may desire to start to- may want to start filling her (although temporary) home with little joys… she’s never been able to have that before. The thought is nice.

She’s just worried on how much that would cost…

She takes out her wallet, rummaging through the chocolates she has now exchanged. “How much is it?”

ENA pauses. “Oh-“ and then stops, mouth working for a moment. From this, Coral is finding, that ENA is actually a very easy person to leave stupefied, it seems. “W-well,” she finally restarts, “I was going to charge an appropriate price for an appropriate size and product of this kind of quality, of course- but since you’re such a good and valiant customer of mine, I’m offering you a discount! How much do you want? 80% off? 90% off? 100%? Name your price, and it’s yours!”

Coral frowns. While she appreciates the charitability, now she feels like ENA is the one being scammed here. “I’m not paying nothing. C’mon, how much should I give you? 50 chocolates? 60?”

“60-“ ENA starts, wide eyed, before she smiles, fingers curling and uncurling at her sides, and says, “Really, I’d advise you to take the discount- it’s my pleasure, after all!”

Coral gives her the 60.

Coral takes the anemonefish with careful fingers, turning it this way and that, watching the light scatter onto the opal iridescence and the tiny gemstones embedded within, and reading the words engraved on the underside of the anemone-shaped stand – “from Frank ” – which does make her pause a bit, but ultimately, her head is too full of clownfish facts at the moment to care.

“Clownfish usually live in around groups of 5 or 6,” she begins, gliding a finger across the figurine carefully. “Clownfish are born as male, but the largest and most dominant of the group transitions into a female later in life- and the second largest is her mate. When the female dies, the dominant male takes her place, and the next biggest one takes the mate’s place – and so on. What’s interesting, is that research shows that the non-breeding males can modulate their growth rate to purposefully keep themselves small, presumably to avoid conflict and not impose on the existing hierarchy- oh.”

She stops. Heat climbs her neck. Her fingers tense around the little smiling fish.

She’s going off on one of her tangents, isn’t she?

“S-sorry,” she says, rubbing her neck again and hunching in on herself. “I got excited- it’s a lovely item, really, thank you-“

“Why’d you stop?”

Coral blinks.

When she raises her eyes, ENA is- not frowning. Not looking bored. Not yawning, not glaring, not anything. Just simply- smiling, arms crossed and head slightly raised and tilted from the hand it was presumably resting in before, and- she looks. Interested?

“Huh?”

“I was awaiting the second act! Surely you’ve got more information to spare? It’s not often I get such an enthusiastic source of delightful nothings!”

Coral feels her heart burn.

This is a new feeling. People don’t just- listen. To her. Especially when she’s like this. Not usually. And not even the description of her rambling as ‘nothings’ gets the sudden warmth down- she has a feeling ENA doesn’t mean it like that. …does she? She’s not just making fun of her, is she?

She gapes her mouth for a second. “…you mean it?”

“Of course!” ENA says, grin confident. Her clawed hand reaches towards her, perhaps unthinkingly. “I want to hear the whole documentation! Go on, what are the ways in which these little fellows avoid conflict?”

A shy, but genuine, smile climbs up on Coral’s lips.

“Well- they do communicate by chattering their teeth, which they mainly do to establish the pecking order and settle arguments, as well as warn of danger- but they also, of course, use body language, such as orienting their bodies, flaring their fins, shaking and twitching, and such. And actually, it is rather interesting that Clownfish are typically more aggressive towards members of their own species, as they are highly territorial, and-“

And so she rambles on, her hand gestures gradually becoming more and more loose and expansive, and at some point, she even begins printing out illustrative drawings and diagrams, showing them to ENA, who- meanwhile- has just been listening, head in her hand, smile on her face- eyes bright and never straying from the other gal.

The only reason Coral stops, is because eventually, Froggy appears out of nowhere, irate and chastising ENA for ‘chatting while on company time’- and the saleswoman is forced to leave and do her job, departing with a wave and a call of ‘I’ll ruminate on this- let’s discuss more later!”, leaving Coral standing there, numerous pictures of clownfish in her hands, feeling positively, endlessly buzzed- and happier than she has been in a long, long time.

Wow.

Is she… making a friend?

That’s the only conclusion she can come to, but somehow, it feels like too simple for what she’s feeling- for the restlessness in her fingers, for the flashes of ENA’s interested smile that keeps popping up behind her eyelids, for the heartbeats that feel way too loud in her chest cavity. There’s excitement there. There’s a push and pull. There’s something tugging her forwards, and she doesn't know what it is yet.

She doesn’t get to think on it too much the rest of the day- she is a busy woman- but it is there. And the feeling returns tenfold when she returns home, and sets the anemonefish figurine on her nightstand next to the coral, and hangs the anemonefish prints on the wall instead of disposing of them. And she sits there. On her bed. Staring at them. Thinking.

She… really likes ENA.

She likes that she is so nice. She likes that she thinks of her, offers her things. She likes that she listens to her talk. She likes her weird, erratic body movements, she likes the smooth timbre of her voice- hell, she even likes the bizarre, sometimes nonsensical, way she talks. She really, really likes her.

…does she. Have a crush?

She thinks- no. It’s too early to tell. It’s only been like, what, 3 times they’ve interacted?

But the thought doesn’t leave her mind. As she sorts through her emails at the end of the day, she wonders if ENA gets emails, or if her job process is more nebulous. When she drinks some tea before bed, she wonders what ENA likes, taste-wise. Does she even eat? When she settles to sleep at 0:48 am, she wonders where ENA sleeps, too – if she’s doing it right now. Does she have a place to rest? What does her home look like?

Maybe if she gets the courage, she’ll ask some of these questions when she sees her next.

But for now, she falls asleep- after-images of too many limbs and the phantom feeling of claws gliding across her skin following her when she wakes.

The excitement in the air is making her feel sick.

It’s all too loud, too bright, too colorful- bodies mingling and the sky screeching- but she ignores it, puts on a professional face, and carries on. Getting through it. Talking if needed. Reaching the Door, and feeling relief, when she’s accepted and let through.

At least the Doors don’t discriminate.

The air inside is a bit less oppressive. Colder. The scenery is vast, stretching farther than the horizon. There's people. She asks them where to find the light. Then, answers ambiguous, she carries on.

And carries on.

And carries on.

And carries on.

The horizon doesn’t feel any closer.

Her legs, mechanical as they are, ache.

The very air feels like it’s heavier and heavier by the minute. By the hour. By the day.

Eventually, more and more bodies start littering the ground. The trees feed on their blood. There’s firearms scattered throughout.

She picks one up. For safety.

There’s a gas station fast food place in the middle of nowhere. She goes in. Resists the urge to rest. Grabs, with some shame, whatever change has been left on the deserted tables.

Then she carries on.

There’s a horse appearing in the sky line.

She carries on.

There’s a second horse. And a third. And a fourth.

She carries on.

The four of them ride closer and closer.

She stops.

They approach her, slowly, methodically, like prey-predators. There’s smoke billowing out of one’s mouth. Her grip on the gun tightens.

She waits.

(She waits).

Then, one of them- the one with its skeleton showing through the translucent flesh, eyes famished – lunges ferociously at her.

She shoots.

(She can’t die here. Not now. Not yet. She hasn’t gotten what she needs still.)

The horse falls to the meadow silently, with not even a whimper – and with it, one of the other horses – the one with smoke between its fangs – stares with murder in its red eyes. And then bows down to her.

Its mouth is open. There’s something- in there.

She reaches into it.

As soon as her fingers reach past the void and touch something burning, the fangs- they snap down. Hard. Painful.

She tries to free herself- she detaches her hand, tries to pray the teeth open again with her other – but it’s no use. The horses have circled her in. The one on the ground writhes at her with contempt. Her gun has fallen, and she can’t reach it in time.

It's no use.

She’s no match against their hooves.

.

At least, when she returns – the smoke is gone.

Coral feels like she’s back in high-school, at some random classmate’s party – utterly lost, utterly awkward, utterly alone.

She shouldn’t feel this way. This is her event. She organized it. Everyone is happy, things are vibrant, there's papers and lights and party-poppers everywhere- but she just…

She’s alone.

For all the blood (IDs), sweaty dress shirts and late-night and post-phonecall tears, not a single person has come up to her. They’re all just- focused mainly on that Taski Maiden. Swarming around her like bees. Buzzing with snuck-in alcohol and celebrating by bowing by the flowers on the now-active Horse door.

She supposes it makes sense.

She was never the center piece, after all – nor would she want to be. Even standing on the outskirts, where it is quieter, where there’s not so much pushing, she still feels a headache come on from all the noise, chest suffocatingly tight and fingers restless. She doesn’t really want to talk to anyone right now. But she just-…

She guesses. It would be nice to at least be acknowledged.

She thinks back to how shocked ENA looked, when she just told her ‘thank you’.

And- speaking of the strange woman actually—

She notices her way too late. And it seems, ENA does, too – eyes only finding her after Coral has already stared at her for what must be a minute. She looks… different? But not in any way Coral can pinpoint. There’s just something… off. Maybe in her coloration. Maybe in her stance.

Either way, she approaches, mingling through the party-goers with a single-minded focus, and she is smiling as always – but there’s something to it that feels a little... tired.

It reflects in her normally smooth and energetic voice, too. When she finally addresses the other.

“Well well, look who I located here - woman of the hour, aren’t you?”

Coral sweats, blushing a little- mostly in embarrassment. She shrugs her shoulders. “Not really… the real big deal here is the new genie.”

“Genie, shmeenie, whatever,” her feminine voice bemoans, eyes rolling. “They’re not that impressive, really.”

Coral stares at her, head tilted. “You met them?” She hasn’t even met the new genie – they’re an elusive bunch – but she supposes she was just a middle man. ENA, however, is a woman of the field, huh?

“Yup,” ENA pops, then flashes her hands, wiggling them theatrically. “Oooohh we’re the four scary horses, bow down to us! Rude fuckers. One of them bit me.”

As Coral stares at ENA’s hands – and not for any weird reasons – she notices what’s wrong. Or, one of the things wrong, at least.

ENA is missing a middle finger from her white arm.

“Uh,” she utters, feeling… weird. Is this weird? Should she point it out? Or is ENA missing appendages just a normal occurrence?

“What?” ENA asks. For her white side speaking, it’s surprisingly not-loud today.

“Um,” Coral repeats, then points to the missing finger.

ENA follows her gaze, processing. Then jumps, with an “Oh! That reminds me actually…”

She rummages through her inventory.

Coral belatedly realizes that this is probably the ‘delivery’ thing that ENA has been committing to with her. What has she got her this time? Perhaps something aquatic-themed again? She has been yearning for a pupfish, a coelacanth or perhaps a porifera, to add to her now-supposedly-growing collection…

But what ENA actually pulls out is- not. That.

It’s… what even is it?

It looks like a… skull? A mechanical, decorated skull? Of what creature? A horse perhaps? It’s small. And there’s soot in its eye-holes. And… wait.

Is that. ENA’s missing finger between its teeth?

“Uhh…” Coral, once more very intelligently, comments, barely even wanting to touch the thing. It’s sort of… creepy? Is that okay to say? Is that offensive?

“Got this from the horse’s mouth itself! I’m sure it would be very treasured for its connection to the new genie. Perhaps you can use it as an incense…?” ENA’s salesperson side says, stilted, mitten hand to her chin. Her eyes wander from the side to fleeting to Coral’s face.

Coral feels bad. Very bad. Cause obviously, ENA got this for her. And based on their previous interactions, she’s not even asking Coral to pay her; it’s a gift. But she kinda… “I kinda… don’t want this?”

ENA stills. Then pulls out a stack of dollar bills (??) and pokes them into the eyes of the Thing. “How about now?”

“I…” Coral says, feeling a bit dumb. “I don’t think you can even… pay with those? Can they be exchanged?”

“BAH!” Her feminine voice yells, outright angry now, pushing the horse skull into Coral’s hands forcefully. “Just take the damn thing! You try to find something better in that barren wasteland. You won’t! It can’t all be winner winner ocean shimmer!”

“Um,” Coral says, now holding the item tightly, but before she can think of a proper response, ENA is already walking off.

“H-hey!” She calls, realizing something with dread. “What about the finger?!”

“Keep it!” ENA yells. Anddd she’s gone.

Whelp…

Coral stands there. And stares at the creepy horse skull. And the white, clawed finger stuck in its teeth.

She guesses she’ll just… hold onto this? Then?

So she does, and when she gets home, she thinks of – as rude as it sounds – just putting it in some drawer or something… but then she thinks some more. On the tired way ENA carried herself today. On the notes of hurt and insecurity she could hear in her tone. And she just… she can’t bring herself to do that. No.

In the end, she takes out the dollar bills (finding that, actually, if she is able to exchange them- that might actually be a sizeable amount of her rent…), gets a match, and, per ENA’s suggestion – tries to light the inside of the skull.

It actually works.

There’s a slight glow emanating from the eyes, and slipping through the cracks. Faint wisps of pink smoke rise from the mouth. And it actually smells… not that bad. Like nicotine, but subdued. Mellower. With a hint of cut grass.

As she takes it in, she very belatedly realizes that the finger is still there, stuck. And she feels bad for leaving it there, getting all smoked up, so she – with some difficulty (why are this dead horse’s jaws so strong??)- takes it out.

And now she just has. One of ENA’s fingers. In her hand.

Is… is this allowed? Is this allowed?

She blushes for a reason she can’t fathom, cowering her face, unthinkingly brushing the finger still in her hand against her cheek as she does. It feels… wrong. Almost- perverted in some way. Just having this piece of ENA with her… Like. She would not mind ENA’s fingers brushing her jaw, she is realizing. She would not mind it at all, and in fact- now she is feeling kind of- all. Hot, and tight in the chest, and there’s something swirling in her gut and traveling up her veins to the ink cartridge in her head. She- wow. She would not mind ENA’s fingers brushing against hers one bit.

Just. Not in this way.

So she places the finger gently, ever so gently down – on the counter next to the flaming skull. And she watches, with something akin to horror but with too much growing affection in her heart to call it that, as the finger does a curl, and then uncurls, on the wooden grain. Almost as if confused.

She settles into bed uneasy that night. The finger keeps making sporadic little twitches.

She’ll give it back the next time they see each other.

She just hopes that will be sooner rather than later…

(And. If she is brave. Really, really brave. She can maybe get the real thing to make contact with in the future.)

They finally- finally - head to the boss.

The path there is risky. And wet. And too long for a swim- thankfully, Froggy is a Frog. But the appendages in the blood keep kicking and nipping at them, getting more and more aggressive as they near the island – protesting their intrusion. They fight it off. They have a job to do.

They finally make it on dry land. She gives the mysterious bag Froggy gave her to carry back to the man- it sounds of metal and rubble- and after they dry off and compose themselves (must maintain a professional look!), they make it to the reception area.

They wait 32 minutes to get taken. Then, they get directed lower down.

To an another receptionist.

Then to another.

Then to another.

Then to a man who gives them a smile, a handshake, and says, “Thank g0d! The Boss will get cranky when he’s hungry.”

Then to another.

There’s an endless snake guarding a door when they make it to the -137 floor. The air is suffocating, sweltering, red. There have been cameras everywhere. She tries her best to ignore them, and the deep-seated pit of discomfort that they set in her intestines.

Froggy sets a piece of intricately designed cloth in front of the snake. It takes it, donning it and getting distracted by its own acquired beauty. The door is left open.

They enter.

The room inside is filled with monitors from corner to corner, wall to wall. At the end of it, the source of the heat – a sweltering, pulsing red, grill, rests.

Froggy meets the ominous eyes staring them down from the shadows.

He steps closer.

He unveils the bag he’s been carrying – taking out a spatula, a fork, a stake, a knife, a thermometer- and feeds the rest- the coals- to the ribs of the grill.

The flames climb higher.

He takes off his shoes. Steps forward. Says, neutrally, “join me, ENA .”

She feels frozen. Confused. Lost. The weight of the gun in her inventory burns. Join her in what?

Froggy steps onto the grill.

“C’mon,” he says, hissing through his teeth.

She smells charred cloth. Charred… something else, something very familiar. The eyes stalk forwards, something glinting of danger underneath them. She can’t help it- she takes out her gun.

Froggy turns to her, expression changing from empty to- confused. “ EN A, what-“

That’s definitely burnt flesh.

The glinting makes way. Fangs.

They tear open wide, engulfing the space, closing in- closing in on— “FROGGY-”---

They snap down.

ENA shoots.

What happens next… everything is too much of a mess to tell.

Coral has a big, dumb, stupid, annoying, awful, abysmal, unrelenting and agonizing headache.

That’s what she gets, for her head suddenly having to print all of those fucking papers – one after the other, it just went on and on and on – and the worst part- the worst part – is that they’re all labeled with ‘terminate’.

Seriously?

Is someone shitting on her right now? Is this just a joke? Some utterly cruel prank a coworker sent her way for no g0ddamn reason whatsoever? Is that it?

Well, whatever.

If they want them terminated, she’s always happy to oblige. Fucking… impotent. Dehumanizing. Bastards…

She sets out to the nearest dumpster, eager to free her aching arms from the whole mess that they’re desperately holding onto- depositing of them all with a heavy heave, and then resting her hands on her knees, letting herself take a breath- desperately trying to keep her vision from swimming, feeling sweat- or maybe ink?- trickle down her neck.

Okay.

Okay.

At least it seems to be over now… she desperately hopes so, at least. She doesn't want to print anything else for another long, long month. Her throat is saturated black- she’ll have to scrub her teeth hard tonight- and she resists the urge to gag, fingers clenching on fabric, eye blinking in and out as she fights off the nausea and dizziness taking over her body.

Fuck.

She wants to cry…

She kinda- she kinda doesn’t want to be here right now. She doesn’t want to be in this smelly alleyway. She doesn’t want to be standing up. She doesn’t want to feel this bad. She wants- she wants-

She wants a hug.

Or- something. Anything. Fuck, she doesn’t know… from who or-

Well. One face pops up.

Coral covers her face, feeling plainly exasperated with herself. G0d. This is not the time to be thinking about ENA and her stupid, piebald face, and how nice she is, and how she probably- maybe?- wouldn’t mind seeing Coral like this, and would maybe even try to comfort her, or offer her an embrace, or- how would that even feel? Very blocky, most likely. Still… the thought is….

Wait.

She is momentarily thrown out of her stupor, eye blinking and zeroing in on the object she noticed in her peripheral vision.

Isn’t that… isn’t that ENA’s arm?

She turns, taking a step, forcing her eye to open and clear and- yeah, it is. Just laying there, on the ground, next to this dumpster. It even has its finger still missing.

Coral kind of wants to laugh. So she does. Leave it to ENA to randomly spawn exactly when she wants needs her the most, she guessed??

Her spirits now rising, she doesn’t even question why ENA would be in this dingy alleyway with her, why her arm is detached- she simply quickly steps around the dumpster, closer to the arm and where her legs are peaking out from behind the bin, eager to meet her-

Eyes…

I.

Oh.

Momentarily, her headache is completely forgotten. Because there, slumped against the splintered brick wall, is ENA- except she looks dead. Her eyes are hollow, her body is limp, her red arm is completely missing, her face is- green? For some reason? And it’s- cracked, and it’s leaking what looks like blood, and-

Oh g0d.

Coral drops down in front of her, panic setting in, hands hovering over the other, but not daring to touch, afraid of splintering her further. “ENA…? ” what happened. What happened? Is she even alive?

“ENA…” She cries out, finally making contact- one hand on her torso (there is no shoulder to hold onto), the other cupping her face- hoping for a reaction, for anything.

Thankfully- she gets one. In ENA’s head slightly, minutely tilting- and her mouth closing and opening again.

Thank the depths.

She’s alive. Just… really, really, out of it. Hurt? Is she hurt? Who hurt her?

“What happened?” She asks, voice tighter than a noose. She feels the blood(?) trickle onto her fingers. She does her best to ignore it.

ENA takes a long while to respond. It’s like just moving her jaw hurts her, or is too taxing- head twitching in Coral’s hold. But eventually, she lets out a hushed “f- failed…”

Coral’s brow pinches, thumb brushing ENA’s cheek, smearing the blood a bit. “Failed?”

“Sh- shouldn’t have. Done that...” She continues, Coral having to lean closer to hear what she’s saying. It doesn’t really- clear anything up…

So she changes course. “What can I do to help?” Her questions can wait – for now, the most important thing is getting ENA out of… this state. That she’s in.

ENA’s head slowly lifts to face her – the empty eye holes boring into her – but she doesn’t reply. No matter how long she waits. Instead, she hears quiet scratching of claws against the floor.

She quickly turns to the separated arm, and immediately almost regrets it- she forgot that she had a headache, g0d, let her not suddenly puke on the other girl or something- and is met with the sight of the white hand twisting clumsily on the ground, claws seeming to want to grasp something.

Coral ignores the pangs in her head and carefully picks it up, and slowly brings it closer to ENA- positioning it where it should slot into place. “D-do you want your arm? Can you get it connected again?”

But when Coral tries releasing the appendage, it simply falls. She quickly catches it again before it can hit the dirty ground.

“Ohhh-kay…” Coral utters, feeling disheartened. So that doesn’t work. Okay.

She hums. Her skin itches. She tries to wrack her brain for how to fix this- how to make it better. She just- she doesn’t know anything, about ENA, in the end… does she? She just knew the business front she's shown to her. She doesn’t know what she likes, what she hates, what she’s struggling with, why this is happening- and most pressingly in this situation, she doesn’t know how her body works- and ENA’s certainly not in a state to enlighten her on it right now, either. It’s just-

She has no idea what to do here.

It sets a pressure building up behind her eye- that in turn makes the pressure around her temples and in her hairline worse. She feels sick. She’s in pain. But ENA probably is in an even bigger state of pain right now- which just makes her feel all the worse to think about. It’s just-

G0d, this always happens. She gets into situations, and she doesn’t know how to deal with them, and she feels powerless and useless and she holds on until she can’t take it anymore; and then she moves on- another job, another relationship, another world— but she doesn’t want to move on, not here. Not with ENA. Not this soon, and especially not in this brutal, unfair manne-

The arm in her hold moves.

She blinks and looks down, only now noticing how blurry her vision has gotten, saltwater dripping onto the white hand- as it twists, and crawls, until it settles. In Coral’s hand. Holding on.

Coral feels her entire face pinch, heart squeezing the breath out of her lungs.

When she raises her eyes, ENA is looking back, pupils- purple and blue- suddenly visible. Expression unreadable, but full of- something, nonetheless.

Coral holds the claws in her own hands.

“I- I’ll fix this,” Coral says, doing her best to move past the lump in her throat. “I’ll fix this, and you’ll be okay. Okay? See, I’ll-“

Suddenly, she remembers the weight in her pocket, and she – very reluctantly – sets the arm in her lap and lets go of ENA’s hand, to dig through it, and pull out a small, metal box- within which, hides a small, red handkerchief- within which hides the still detached, white finger. She carefully takes it out and brings it closer to ENA’s hand.

ENA’s pupils follow, mouth parting. “You… b-box? Still have…?”

Coral looks up, taking a second to comprehend the question. “But of course,” she says, once again feeling herself stumble on the way ENA seems surprised at every little bit of kindness offered her way. Why? “I had to protect it, didn’t I?”

I had to protect you.

The thought comes unbidden, but strangely or not, it doesn’t ring untrue. It’s just- How can she? She could protect the tiny little piece of her ENA entrusted her, sure- but she couldn’t protect the whole of her, evidently. She can’t protect her from the world, or- perhaps, herself. The only thing she can do- is sit here. Holding her hand. Trying not to break down.

She doesn’t know if it’s enough.

But- the finger, with a click, reattaches. The hand flexes for a moment. The arm’s weight in her lap lessens, gravity reversing and the shoulder orienting towards ENA’s body. And her claws, now whole, settle deeper into Coral’s palm. Almost clipping through.

She wraps her fingers around them. When she looks up, ENA is looking down, jaw tight- but the blood has seemingly coagulated, not dripping as much anymore; and when she brings the arm closer towards her, it quickly slots into place.

She sighs, relieved. It seems, a little bit of progress has been made.

That’s enough, for now.

“C’mon,” She says, leaning forwards until she can wrap an arm around and under the arm of the other. Her other hand still holding on. “Let’s get out of this putrid alleyway.”

ENA stares up at her, her body stiff in Coral’s hold- but when Coral rises, she goes with; though her legs seem to lag behind a bit, stumbling on the ground. But they find their footing eventually, and Coral is optimistic- until they try to take a step.

ENA’s legs tangle and crumble.

Coral winces. “Sorry,” she crouches a bit so the legs can catch up easier. “We'll go slow, okay?”

But despite that, even as Coral tries to be as steady as possible- a few strides in, it happens again. Legs twitching on the ground. And ENA's head lowers, her hold on Coral’s hand becoming stiff, as a few cracks resound in the air.

Coral breathes. Her coral is acting up again, too. Her headache isn’t helping. She thinks on what to do.

Getting her white finger and arm reattached seemed to help a little. Maybe…?

Carefully, she sets ENA on the ground against the wall, helping the legs move into place so they’re not strewn as awkwardly. And before she lets go of her hand, she says, “Wait here. I’ll go look for your red arm, okay?”

ENA doesn’t look at her, but she- after a moment- nods. Coral squeezes her hand, then parts.

Okay. Where to look?

She supposes anywhere is good. So she starts with just walking through the alleyway, squinting through the shadows, inspecting the cracks between garbage bags and loose bricks- and when that fails, she steps outside the alleyway for a bit, circling the area to see if it’s maybe somewhere close- and when that fails also, she guesses- she’ll just have to rummage through the garbage bins. Maybe.

The first one is fairly empty. Just some bottles. No arm in sight.

The other garbage bin is where she threw the papers. It’s also a lot more full. As she rummages through it, however (fighting back the embarrassment and distaste and sensory nightmare if it all- it’s for ENA, it’s for ENA- ), her eye catches once more on the papers, and more specifically, what’s written on them- now, with her headache a bit lessened, able to see past the bright red [TERMINATE] marker in front.

It's… are those names?

She, momentarily distracted, takes one in her hands; and unlike before when she just carelessly threw them out, she actually reads its contents. And… yeah. That’s… Froggy’s name….

The text below looks like a description. But some of it seems- scrambled. Out of place. Mixed up. And even despite that, the information seems invasive- like peering through another person’s guts, or reading their code. Very badly written code. Maybe… sabotaged…?

When she looks at the other papers, they’re much the same. Just with different entities.

She clutches the page. And mumbles, “What is this...”

ENA, in the corner of the shadows, hunches in on herself. Small.

Coral watches her, then looks back to the papers- and then, with a resolute sigh and a conscious effort on her part to redirect the oncoming sense of dread that’s threatening to invade her senses and make her ask questions- instead places the papers back down again, spends a bit more time rummaging just so be sure, and finally- after taking out a tissue and wiping her hands- settles down besides ENA again. Feeling disquieted.

“I’m sorry,” she says, quietly. “I wasn’t able to find your arm.”

ENA doesn’t look up at her.

Coral bites her lip, considering- considering. It’s really not good that ENA is left incomplete in this way- but she doubts the arm is anywhere near them. And she can’t just leave to look- She obviously can’t leave the other woman here, alone. But ENA can’t walk. Maybe she could…

She grazes ENA’s hand. “Could I carry you?”

ENA finally, haltingly, looks up. Her eyes are dim. Her head, after a moment, tilts to the side a bit.

Coral shuffles closer. Reaches out her arms, sees to how would be best to hold her. “Let’s try…”

She lifts the upper body, and it’s surprisingly light- but getting the legs up at the same time like this is a challenge. ENA’s eyes are wide. She tries to rearrange for a while, hold clumsy, unable to account for all of ENA’s separate parts- and she’s getting really frustrated… until she gets an idea.

She sets ENA down again, her body disassembling against the wall; takes off her suit jacket; and lays it out against the ground. It doesn’t matter that it's dirty now- nothing a wash can’t fix. And then, she goes to move ENA onto it.

“What- d-doing…?” She mumbles, scrambling against Coral’s grasp a bit.

Coral shushes her softly. “Shhh. I'm carrying you… it’ll be easier this way.”

And then, with the whole jacket (and after remembering to pick up the hat discarded to the side also), she moves to carry ENA up. Like in a blanket.

All her parts are scattered, legs and arm sticking out awkwardly, her hat on her pelvis and her pelvis on top of her chest- but it works. Her head is nestled in Coral’s arm. She's a bit heavy, but nothing Coral can’t handle.

After adjusting a bit, and tightening her hold- she asks, quietly, “Comfortable?”

ENA’s eyes are wide. Her pupils dart from Coral’s face to anywhere else. “Y-you don’t- have to…”

“I want to,” Coral replies. Simply. Gently.

ENA falls silent. Her pupils dilating.

And with that- Coral starts walking.

The journey is surprisingly peaceful. There’s not many people around. Normally, she would question it- and g0d does she especially want to question it now, with the- very suspicious and inscrutable papers sitting in that dumpster – but right at this moment, ENA, and getting her home, takes priority. Everything else can wait after that.

After a while, ENA gradually becomes more and more at ease in her hold. And also heavier, but- that might also just be Coral getting tired. Nonetheless, she can’t really complain- especially when, at some point, a strange, quiet whirring noise begins resounding in her ears.

At first, she thinks it’s from somewhere around them- maybe some sort of machinery? There’s certainly some around the buildings on these parts- but instead, as she realizes that the noise is close enough to reverberate through her arm, like a pleasant, constant buzz- like static singing you a song… she looks down, and realizes it’s coming from ENA’s head. ENA, who’s eyes are now closed. Peaceful.

Is she… purring?

That’s- probably not the right word. ENA possibly just has some mechanical parts in her that activate when she’s- calm? Relaxed? Or maybe the opposite, and she’s distressed? Maybe she was just overheating…? Coral doesn’t know. But it’s… sort of endearing, either way…

She decides to not comment on it, and just carry on. The buzz a comfort against the brightening sky.

Finally, after what feels like too long, they reach Coral’s apartment, and she has to wrangle around her hold on ENA a bit as she tries to open all the doors. Unfortunately, she’s not able to do so without waking the other up (assuming she was even sleeping) – but, ENA doesn’t complain either way, eyes a bit owlish as she stares at the interior of her place.

Coral kicks the door closed, clumsily toes off her shoes, and makes her way in- hesitating a bit as she thinks it over- before walking to the small bedroom to the side, and, slowly and carefully, laying ENA down on the bed.

Okay. They’re here now.

So she shakes out her tired arms, heaving a long, deep breath… And then notices ENA staring, wide eyed- at the figurine on the nightstand. At the piece of coral. At the skull on the counter. At the illustrations on the walls.

Coral, suddenly, feels a bit exposed- very exposed actually- which is silly. ENA is the one who gave her these things. It shouldn’t be a big deal. But…

“You… like, them?”

Coral looks to ENA, her heart catching in her chest at her quiet, almost… shy, voice- at the eyes making contact with hers. Despite the sorry state she is in right now, she actually, comparatively, weirdly- looks rather bright right now.

“…Of course I do,” Coral says, hands to her chest. She does. Even the skull thing- the scent is comforting. And there’s something almost cool about it, actually, in a fascinatingly macabre way- she’s growing to love it the same as the rest of the gifts. And they are gifts. Given to her for a reason she- still doesn’t know or understand…

She gazes at ENA, for a bit, then. At her scattered body. At her single present white arm. At her wide- confused, lost, happy, sad, conflicted?- eyes. And…

Instead of asking; she moves to arrange ENA on the bed in a less awkward arrangement.

ENA eventually realizes what she’s doing, and moves to do half the work herself- but her movements still seem slow and heavy, nothing like the energetic, fluid, and wonderfully chaotic gestures she’s known for. Coral tries to settle with that fact. Tries to settle with how obviously broken ENA is, beneath that charming, assertive façade… it kind of makes her throat burn.

And then they sit in silence for a bit. ENA’s eyes traveling and settling on the gifts again… before, suddenly- she gasps.

“Coral! I didn’t get you anything this time!”

(The voice kind of sounds like her red side.)

Coral stares at her at that- for a second, two, three- before she can’t help it.

She laughs.

It’s just- it’s so absurd. Here ENA is, having survived- something and being deposited at a dumpster, part of her body missing, her face cracked and bleeding (though it’s honestly looking a lot better now), clearly exhausted and wrecked and not quite herself- and still , her first lucid sentence in this whole situation is about how she didn’t get Coral anything.

It's sweet. It’s really, really sweet. And also stupid. So stupid and dumb and silly.

So ENA.

(Coral would also be amiss to not notice this is the first time ENA has said her name. It makes her heart warm.)

“E-ENA…” She finally gets through her laughter. “ENA, you don’t need to get me anything. I’m just glad to have you here with me.”

As she says this, she leans down closer to her. Without thinking, setting her palm on her cheek.

ENA stares at her with her pupils looking suspiciously like stars.

And then- she glitches. Mouth parting, face crackling, static showing through the cracks- and for a second, Coral panics, gripping her hand, opening her mouth to call her name- but. After it settles. She’s herself again.

A little worn around the edges. Deep shadows under her eyes. Red color dulled, and her arm is still missing. But…

It’s undeniably, miraculously, her.

Coral sighs, letting out the big, tangled and heavy mess of stress that has accumulated in her chest until now- brushes messy strands of hair out of her face; and states, fondly, “There you are…”

ENA stares back at her. Eyes wide, glistening, unreadable. Her face flushing beyond belief, to the point that the line between her two sides almost disappears.

And then she suddenly jumps up, with a strength she didn’t have before, almost knocking her head against Coral’s- and, clutching her face, says, “You- y-you—”

Her voice sounds tight. Almost angry.

Coral blinks, distancing herself a bit. Did she do something wrong? Did she overstep? Oh by the seas, she probably did overstep didn’t she- she was just so caught up in her own stupid overwhelming feelings and concern and relief, she didn’t even think- oh g0d—

“Why are you so kind to me, I don’t GET it!” ENA yells. Hoarse.

Coral pauses.

Her heart beats, hurts, sings- hands wanting to reach out again but not daring to, wanting to shake the other and print out evidence of all the reasons why- wanting to somehow transcribe how ENA, in just a few, short interactions, has made her life that much brighter— but all she ends up saying, is “because you were kind to me.”

ENA's claws fall from her face. Gaze flabbergasted.

“I-“ she stammers, “I- I wasn’t- I was trying to sell you stuff, I was just doing one of my schemes, I was just doing my job-“

“Does your job usually involve giving personalized items out for free? Or with free cash even? And listening to me talk for an hour about fish?”

ENA freezes. Her jaw clenches closed, her claws drumming neurotically on the blankets, her eyes avoiding Coral’s. She looks…

She honestly looks scared.

Coral’s heart squeezes, confused and concerned- and with some hesitation, she places her hand on ENA’s, stilling the rattling, though they still twitch underneath. She hopes she isn’t making it worse. It’s hard to tell. It’s hard to know what to say.

“I’m not mad,” she tries.

“I know,” ENA replies. Voice high. Shaky.

She doesn’t look any less scared- in fact, she almost looks ready to jump out of her skin, or start crying- one of the two. Maybe both. It’s very concerning- why is she so terrified of… what? Being seen as kind? Interacting with her outside of a business veneer? Interacting with her in… general? In this manner? Of being cared about…?

She squeezes her hand. “ENA… talk to me, please… what’s- what are you feeling…?”

ENA shakes her head. Her claws twitch and curl in Coral’s hold, wanting to escape. It might be selfish, but- Coral doesn’t let her.

“You shouldn’t get close to me…” ENA finally whispers.

Coral inches further into the bed. Towards ENA. “Too late.”

“You don’t know me.” ENA says, voice gaining that characteristic growl that this voice is known for.

“No,” Coral admits, simply. “But I would like to get to know you… if you’d allow me.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done—”

ENA’s claws finally escape her hold, jumping to clutch at her hair, tearing into it, body hunching away- and Coral quickly reaches out to grasp her arm before she can turn and disappear out of her life. Not now. Not yet. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. But the ENA I see – she is kind, and she is attentive, and she is funny, and she is hard working, and she would never, never, hurt me. I don’t believe it. I know you wouldn’t.”

ENA turns slightly. Just to finally meet her eyes. They’re shadowed; they’re misty; they’re angry. “Then you don’t know me at all.”

Coral takes ENA’s hand – takes her fingers, her claws, with all their very sharp points – and points them directly at her own throat. “Prove it.”

ENA’s eyes widen, frozen. She looks sick.

“Prove it then,” Coral repeats, planting the claws directly on the vulnerable tissue there.

In the back of her mind, she faintly remembers – how she wished to have ENA’s hands in hers. How she dreamed of her claws grazing her skin.

Funny, how these things always realize themselves in the most fucked up of ways.

“You don’t get it-“ ENA finally responds, voice tremulous, but she doesn’t move her hand- doesn’t move at all, in fact. Her red side cracks into flashes of black. “No matter what I do, it always happens- I fuck things up. That’s what I do. I leave destruction in my wake. I lead people to die.”

“Would you kill me?” Coral asks again. The claws are still there.

“No.” ENA finally tries to yank her hand away. Coral doesn’t let her.

“Then what’s the problem?” Coral knows she is gaining an edge of her own. That she is being forceful. Impatient. Antagonistic, and stupid. She just- she knows ENA isn't a malicious person. And she so badly wants to understand why in the hell ENA thinks that, why she’s so scared to touch her, to get close to her- from what ung0dly depths this is coming from. Who is she?

ENA continues to try to tug her hand back- but it’s a very calculated motion. Claws straight as they can be. As away from Coral’s skin as they can be. “Cause if it’s not gonna be me, it’s gonna be someone else!” She yells, voice breaking. “You’ll still get hurt regardless!”

“What,” Coral asks, trying to wrap her mind around what ENA’s saying. “you’re saying someone else will hurt me?”

“Yes!”

“How is that your fault?” Coral asks, now utterly bewildered. Her other hand joins in holding ENA’s- wrapping around her claws. Both bringing them ever closer to her own skin; and shielding them gently.

“I don’t know- it doesn’t matter how I caused it, I just did. Have you seriously never even heard of me before?! I'm at the root of the pain tree! I’m the bloody carpet you walk upon! I'm the angel you can’t forgive!”

Coral can’t take it.

Her heart is splintering out of her ribcage, hurtling through her still hurting head- and she only allows herself a second of hesitation, before she finally releases ENA’s claws at her neck- and instead wraps her arms around her.

ENA is rock solid in her grip.

“That’s bullshit,” and she wants to spit it out- but instead, it comes out quiet, and broken. She holds ENA tighter. “I’ve only known you for, what, two weeks? But I can already tell that’s such bullshit. Maybe other entities here think that- maybe I’m lucky that I haven’t gotten a chance to get poisoned by them yet. But you’re not a bad person, ENA.”

ENA is still. Then, she starts trembling.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m telling what I see,” Coral says, whispering in ENA’s ear. “Would a bad person want to protect me this much?”

The trembling devolves into shaking. She hunches in. “You’re different…”

Coral pauses. “Am I?” She asks, choosing not to delve into this exact line of thought at the moment. Even though she feels that, yeah, ENA is different, too. “You’re saying you don’t care about Froggy? Want him protected?”

And just like that, ENA bursts into sobs.

It comes out sudden and overwhelming, with a gurgling scream and ENA clutching at her clothes roughly, almost painfully- and Coral has to blink and steady herself to calm the sudden onset of vertigo, the sharp pain in her temples from the noise- that she doesn’t blame ENA for. She could never. This sounds like- Wow. It sounds like it’s been building and bubbling and being restrained for eons.

She just leans into the hold, makes it more secure, tighter – and ignores it when she feels ENA’s claws ripping through her dress shirt, instead placing a hand on her head. Brushing through her hair. She can replace that one. Even if it was her favorite.

At some point, ENA also starts babbling apologies – though they’re pretty incomprehensible through the sobs- and Coral has to try her hardest not to start crying in turn.

This lasts- a long time. Multiple times, the sobs would seem to calm down, petering into cries and then hiccups- but inevitably, something would get triggered again, and they would renew. Coral just shuts her eyes. Let’s her let it out. Even if it’s really, really not doing any good for the headache that she almost got rid of.

Either way, she bets the headache ENA is starting to develop from this all is worse.

Especially when ENA, from just how hard she is crying- seems to start retching, and Coral has to quickly redirect them both to the edge of the bed- where, yes, ENA throws up static on the vinyl floor. Okay. That’s okay. She can mop that up- at least it wasn’t on the blankets…. She shushes ENA’s apologies for this action. And then it continues on.

But thankfully- it is not endless, just like nothing is. As soon enough, the sobs peter into cries, and then into hiccups – and then they stay there. Even that eventually quieting down into just sniffles. ENA’s head falling limp on her shoulder, her hand falling from her shirt- and Coral pats the other’s back, even as her own feels a little wounded at the moment.

ENA eventually seems to recover somewhat- rising her head slightly to say, “m’sorry…”

Coral loosens her hold, brushing through her hair once more, for good measure. ENA's face looks miserable, left side a complete void, her right a dark grey- and she’s refusing to meet Coral’s eyes, face flushed slightly in sickly embarrassment. “I dunno what came over me…”

“No apologies here. You obviously needed it-” Coral says, the words devolving into a yawn as she stretches – bones popping back into place – and ENA watches, still dazed, something still hidden in her gaze.

Coral sighs, turning and peering over the bed to check the static yack flooded beside it- and mumbles that “I’ll go clean that- I’ll be right back, I promise,” only—

“I hurt you…” ENA utters. Voice disquieted.

“Hm?” Coral turns to her, sobering a bit at the harrowed look on ENA’s face- at the way she glances down at her claws. Bloodstained. “Oh,” Coral realizes, feeling the stinging lines in her back; and says, “It’s okay. It'll heal. It happens, okay? I’m not mad.”

“I hurt you.” ENA repeats, face twisting again, her voice breaking again- “After all that talk, I really can’t do anything right-“

Coral flounders, desperate to change the trajectory of where ENA is heading and to please do not make her cry again, Coral- “ It’s okay! It’s really, really okay! You didn’t do it on purpose! Think of it like- uh—” the words tumble out before she can comprehend them, “like- like a hickey! Something done in the heat of the moment, yes, but not cause you want to hurt me! It’s just a little wound, is all!”

ENA stares at her. Slowly, progressively- her face twists into something very confused, very disgruntled, and very, uh- discomforted. With some red on top. At least it’s not more sadness? “Why are you comparing me hurting you to a hickey?”

Coral plants her face in her hands.

She will definitely not tell ENA the fact that, actually, if she wanted to give her an actual hickey- she wouldn’t complain. (Even though she’s not sure how that would even work. Her mouth isn’t exactly… functional.)

“Let’s change the subject,” she peeps out. She will carry this embarrassment for the rest of her life.

Through her fingers and the hair falling into her face, she sees ENA shuffle uncomfortably on the bed. Claws twitching, curling, but careful to not touch the bedsheets and stain them. Bloodied.

As much as Coral wants to soften it for ENA- she supposes… she can’t deny that. That there’s blood on her hands. Even if unintentional.

“Okay,” she finally sighs, lowering her hands. Inching closer. Trying to peer at ENA’s lowered eyes. “Okay, so- you can hurt me. You could. You did. But- that doesn’t change anything.”

She reaches out. Takes ENA’s bloodstained hand. And continues, “you’re not unique in this, okay? Everyone hurts people. Everyone messes up. You think I haven’t?”

She laughs a bit. She’s got enough dysfunctional relationships in her history to attest to that.

But ENA just shakes her head. “You’re different,” she says, again. That confounding phrase. “You’re different to me...”

“In what way?” Coral tries to ask gently, but it comes out with a slight edge- escaping the hurt, worried confines of her chest. Her hold on ENA’s claws tightens. “Because, what? You’re ENA?”

ENA escapes further into her own mind, face hidden, her hand in Coral’s limp. Her voice is quiet and unexpressive. Nothing like herself. “Among other reasons…”

“Tell me,” Coral says, inching ever closer. She sets ENA’s hand in her lap. “Tell me the reasons.”

ENA is silent.

And she stays silent; completely retreated into herself.

Coral sighs.

“Look,” she begins, sorting through and trying to arrange her thoughts in a way that would cohesively and effectively express the- everything. That she’s feeling right now. It all still feels rather messy, in there. But she tries. “I don’t care what you have done. I don’t care what you could do. I just know that I- care about you… and. I want to see you happy. And I want to get to know you. And I don’t care if I get a little hurt in the process-“ and she probably will get hurt in the process, knowing her own track record- but she thinks here, with ENA, it's worth it. ENA is beginning to feel like worth all the pain in the world. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll build up. We’ll patch the wounds. And we’ll be alright.”

There is a lull. As Coral waits for ENA to respond.

The woman is silent and still for a long minute- hand occasionally twitching in Coral’s hold, her form flashing- before she slumps, and tries to take back her hand.

Coral lets her.

She brings it to her head, claws dragging across her face tiredly. “Can- can I-“ She stutters, voice belatedly slipping into a deeper tone. “Can I do that? Patch your wounds…?”

Coral feels her heart constrict, back stinging, and she smiles. Offering her hand out again. “Of course.”

ENA hesitates- then takes it.

Coral crawls to the other side of the bed- where there’s not a pool of vomit to step on- and climbs out, taking a moment to steady herself on her cramped legs- then pulls ENA with.

She also stumbles. Coral, belatedly, remembers how she couldn’t even walk before- and quickly goes to wrap an arm around her. “You okay?”

ENA nods, hissing through her teeth. “I can- walk.”

“I’m sure you can,” Coral amends. For what it’s worth, at least ENA’s legs aren’t falling into a pile this time. “I’ll support you regardless.”

ENA’s face colors a bit- the red side flashing into unsteady being again. Her hold on Coral’s hand tightens.

“Let me show you to the first aid kit, okay?”

And they make their way there, to the bathroom- where, once they’ve reached the overhead cabinet, Coral reluctantly lets go to reach into it- while ENA breathes, turns on the sink, and washes the blood off of her fingers.

Coral sets the kit down on the side. “Here.”

ENA’s hand twitches, then shoots up- and she has a moment of befuddlement, before she realizes she doesn’t have her other hand - and therefore can’t clap. She quickly brushes past it, tapping at her chest instead. “Wonderful! Now you, um.” She pauses, taking in the small, cramped bathroom. “Get… comfortable?”

Coral follows the now masculine voice’s instructions, sitting on the closed lid of toilet- facing away from ENA so her back is exposed. It’s a bit awkward, her feet hitting the sides of the shower, but- it’ll make do.

ENA ushers around for a bit, collecting the things needed, wetting a towel- and she certainly seems. More alive right now? Perhaps, she just feels better when given a task.

Coral’s not sure what to think about that.

And after she’s deposited everything next to them- nowhere else to put things beside the toilet itself, but that’s fine- she settles behind Coral. And lightly, carefully, so delicately it sends electric currents running through Coral’s skin- she touches her back, gliding across it until her hand rests on her shoulder.

“I think-“ she begins, voice almost shy. More considerate than the charismatic voice usually sounds. “we need to take off the shirt.”

Coral blushes, throat closing, feeling stupid. Oh. “A-ah- of course.”

She considers a way out for a second, before acquiescing, and- reluctantly- doing as told. At least she's wearing a bra today. But still, it-

Coral doesn’t really like looking at her body. She doesn’t like the- unevenness of it. Bones showing in some places, fat rolling in others- hair unshaved and dark against her paper pale, sweaty skin. It’s not exactly that she’s ashamed of it- but. It feels like too much, to show to another person. Too vulnerable. Too open to interpretation, to criticism.

But ENA, of course- doesn’t comment.

She just shifts behind her, and then presses the towel- damp, cold- against her shoulder blades. Coral fights off the urge to shiver.

“Does it hurt, friend?” ENA asks, as she glides the towel across the wounds.

Coral considers the question, the stinging in her skin- mostly superficial, but in some places it does dig a little deeper- and says, truthfully, “A little. But nothing too bad.”

ENA pauses. Then says, again, “I apologize,” her voice is quiet. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Coral breathes out, closing her eyes as she drops her head against the glass of the shower. “It’s okay…”

ENA hums in what sounds like disagreement, but doesn’t argue further. Coral is thankful. She’s heard enough guilt from the other woman today for a lifetime.

ENA works gently, but efficiently. Quickly cleaning the scrapes out, quickly disinfecting them, quickly bandaging them- it’s like it’s second nature to her, treating flesh wounds like this. Which doesn’t make much sense, to Coral. Since ENA doesn’t have flesh.

But what does she know?

And after it’s done – ENA pats her on her shoulder, and Coral has to restrain herself from- something, as ENA leans down close, her hair tickling her jaw, and whispers in her ear: “There. All done, dear Coral.”

G0d. She’s down bad.

She feels her polyp rings making waves, her face burning, thankful that it’s turned away from ENA so she doesn’t see. Does she know? Does she know of how she is playing with Coral’s heart? Is it intentional? Is it… reciprocated?

She honestly can’t tell.

ENA could very well just possibly see her as a friend, and only that- as a new connection, and is getting more comfortable upon someone actually treating her with kindness- which, as she has begun to increasingly realize, doesn’t happen to ENA often. If that’s all it is, Coral doesn’t want to impose. Doesn’t want to ruin it for her. Doesn't want their relationship to crumble, so soon after forming, just from Coral’s dumb, warm to the touch and increasingly intimate feelings. She doesn’t deserve that.

But she can’t help but wonder…

Either way, the moment doesn’t last long (even if it felt like it stretched on for forever in Coral’s mind)- as ENA steps back, and leans down to pick up the discarded dress shirt- shredded on one side, splotches of inky blood marring the edges. It’s… yeah, it’s definitely not salvageable.

Coral takes it from ENA’s grasp, smiling assuringly, as she says, “Let’s just throw it in the trash.”

ENA looks very conflicted at that, guilt clear as day, as she says, “You’ll have to buy a new one…”

Coral laughs a little. “ENA, it’s just a boring old dress shirt. It doesn’t cost that much.”

ENA’s mouth switches to her white side at that, brow furrowing in anger as she opens the mouth to argue- but she seems to catch herself. Shutting herself up. As instead, she looks away.

Coral doesn’t know what is up with that, but she chooses not to pry and potentially irritate her further- instead turning to the trashcan next to the toilet, and, after a bit of hesitation, depositing the shirt within.

Bye bye, white, comfortable, breathable and well-fitting shirt. I’ll miss you.

Coral sends another long telepathic apology to the ruined piece of clothing- look, she’s always felt bad for letting things go, okay, don’t judge her- and then, she turns back to ENA, and, with a bit of a stretch, stands up.

“Well,” she remarks, smiling a little tiredly and putting a hand on ENA’s shoulder. “let me find something else to wear, and then we’ll see where to go next, okay?”

ENA’s gaze lags a bit- staring at her… torso? Chest? Before it shoots up, and she quickly nods, face a little… flushed.

Huh.

It could have been incidental- ENA is a fair bit shorter than her after all (something that, looking down at her now while they’re so close, makes Coral want to do something stupid- like fucking.. kiss her forehead, or lift her up, or press her against the-- um. Anyways-), so her boobs were probably just in her sight line, but- hm.

Either way, Coral needs to stop thinking about this or she will actually go insane.

So, a blush of her own traitorously having climbed her face, she quickly steps past ENA and towards the bedroom, eager to cover herself up again and stop thinking these- needless… thoughts.

She hears ENA’s footsteps following as she digs through her closet.

She has lots of other, very similar dress shirts to choose, but instead, she picks the biggest shirt she has- a simple, oversized T with faded lettering saying ‘women want me, I’m obsessed with fish; not having to deal with this bullshit anymore is my only wish’, which was actually a gift from a former partner, but- she’d rather not think about that right now.

When she turns around, ENA stares at the shirt, head tilting and a small, although a little confused, smile on her lips. “What a charming piece of attire,” she says.

Coral rubs her neck, embarrassed, but not enough to change it. “Thanks…” (Maybe she should get a shirt that says ‘please make out with me’ and see if anything happens).

They stand around a bit, in increasingly awkward silence- until Coral’s eyes drop to the puddle of static still next to her bed, and she mumbles, “probably should go clean that up-“

“I’m on it!” ENA exclaims, aanddd she’s off. And then, just as fast as she disappeared, she reappears with the already bloodied towel, dropping down to mop the puddle up.

Coral sighs.

Then sits at the edge of the bed, and lets her do her thing. She feels like she should help- ENA has only one arm and was at what looked like death’s door just two or three hours before, after all- but she doesn’t look like she particularly needs or wants it, so.

She watches as ENA finishes it up and heads to the bathroom again. She thinks she’s only going to put the towel in the bin or something, so she doesn’t follow- but then, after two minutes, ENA reappears, asking, “Do you have any other clothes that need to be washed right now?”

Coral blinks. “Huh?”

“Dirty clothes,” ENA repeats.

“I-“ Coral stutters, standing up. “are you doing my laundry?”

ENA tilts her head, claws fidgeting. “Is that a problem?”

Coral shakes her head, feeling befuddled. “I- no, but- ENA, you don’t need to do that.”

ENA’s hand moves up, grabbing- before she seems to realize she doesn’t have her hat on, eyes glancing at where it still rests on the bed- and she says, a little quietly, “it’s the least I could do.”

Coral steps closer, outstretching her hand, “ENA, you’re a guest, it’s fine, let’s just-“

“Please.”

ENA’s claws intertwine with her fingers. Her eyes are shadowed by her bangs, looking back.

Coral sighs.

She drags her free hand across her face, and says, “let- let me change, and then get back to you.”

ENA nods, lets go of her hand, and exits the room. Shutting the door on the way out.

Coral sits on the bed again, mattress dipping. And breathes out. Slow. Heavy. Head in her hands.

This… has been a really, really long day.

First work was already way busier than it normally is, and then came the cursed fucking hell of a half an hour of just printing, printing, printing until her head felt like it was going to split apart, and then ENA showed up with her corpse like body, and after carrying her home she had a whole breakdown in her apartment, and they had a heart-to-heart, and she saw Coral shirtless, and she dressed her wounds, and now--

Now she’s doing her laundry.

It’s such a simple thing. It doesn’t take that much effort, really. But…

Something about it makes Coral’s heart constrict.

She does as she said she’d do, changing her pants and everything, then gathering her suit jacket and the pile of laundry that she had left on her desk chair (look, she didn’t expect guests, okay-), and then makes her way to ENA.

ENA, who is kneeling by the washing machine. Reading the tag on one of her shirts. Who belatedly looks up when Coral knocks on the doorframe.

She smiles. “Splendid! Put that in the bin please, I’ll sort it.”

Coral does as told. Then sits on the closed toilet.

She just watches ENA work, for a while. Head in one hand. As she separates the light clothes from the rest, and sets aside the more delicate fabrics, and stuffs them inside, and then- per Coral’s instructions- puts in the detergent and fabric softener, and then starts it off.

It really is a simple thing.

But it just- it just feels so… domestic. Having ENA in her home like this. Helping her with chores. Just having her around.

It makes Coral realize, how lonely she usually feels.

It sets a pressure behind her eye, that expands, that makes her cover her face. Her heart feels so full. Her ribcage feels too tight. She doesn’t know why it’s all hitting her now- why she wants to just curl up in a ball and cry—but it’s all so suddenly overwhelming, and she tries to fight it off, because she’s not alone right now, she’s not alone, but still—

She feels claws graze her hand.

“Hey,” ENA’s voice – the feminine one, softly, quietly, asks, “You okay?”

Coral slowly unveils her face.

ENA is staring back, kneeling in front of her, brows furrowed in concern. Her hand on Coral’s is cold- she's always cold, it seems- but the touch is light, comforting. Coral does her best to blink back the tears.

“I’m fine,” she replies. But her voice comes out choked.

ENA’s touch turns to a hold, head inching closer. “I doubt that is the case,” her deeper timbre returns. “Tell me. What’s undergoing in that pretty head, dear Coral?”

Coral’s heart is going to jump out of her chest.

“I just-“ she says, voice catching, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The hold ENA has on her hand burns. She doesn’t want to let go. “I’m just…” she finally manages, throat closing in on her, “I-I’m so glad to have you here.”

ENA’s eyes widen.

She seems to buffer, almost- her hold going near slack- before she blinks, securing it again- staring when Coral turns her hand to intertwine their fingers.

Coral has to say something. It’s all too much. So she does.

“I really- really like you.”

ENA stares back at her at the words- her mouth falling open. But she doesn’t reply, not for a long while, seemingly frozen. Studying her expression. Trying to find- something. There.

Until finally, voice deep and breathless, she says:

“I… really like you, too.” Then, with her feminine voice, “I do.”

Coral can’t take it any longer.

She moves her free hand to ENA’s hair, running through it, cupping the back of her head- and slowly, slowly, leans in. Her polyp rings are jumping like they’re flames. Her face is beginning to burn. Her heart is on fire. And before she can make contact, watching the way ENA’s expression falls slack, a pretty blush marring her face and blurring the line between her colors, she asks, “Can I kiss you?”

ENA, pupils dilated, nods.

So she does.

Kissing ENA is- strange. She has to find an angle, that doesn’t interfere with the coral on her face. And at first, it doesn’t feel like much. It’s almost like kissing paper, seeing as ENA's face is inorganic, flat- but it’s broken up by the way the edges of her mouth catch her lips, the hot breath she can feel on her tongue, the strange vibration- same as when she was carrying her- suddenly starting up again and reverberating through her head, her lips, tingling. She pushes further, the red side of her face dipping, soft, malleable. Fingers tangling in the other’s hair. ENA letting out a single, high and sweet noise.

She tastes like rations and apple slices.

She’s warm.

She feels ENA let go of her hand, as the claws instead find their way on Coral’s neck, gliding underneath her hair. Coral shudders, exhaling into ENA’s mouth, moving the now free hand to her cheek. And then- just because she’s losing oxygen- she parts.

She catches her breath, inhaling deeply. Opens her eye. ENA is staring at her with her entire face flushed, nebulas in her eyes, mouth still open and covered in Coral’s saliva.

That last fact is silly.

Coral laughs, breathlessly, moving the hand from her cheek to try and wipe some of it off. “Sorry,” she utters.

ENA’s claws move to grasp her wrist. Coral pauses, fingers on her chin.

“Do you really mean it?” ENA asks. Her voice is trepidant, small.

Coral blinks. “What?”

“Do you really- like me…?”

Coral feels her heart break.

The fact that she feels the need to ask this- eyes so hopeful yet still, still, a little guarded- after everything, makes Coral want to do- something. She doesn’t even know, at this point… cry? Kiss ENA silly until she forgets all the doubts in her head? Hug her close and never let her go?

In the end, she does none of that. She just squeezes her hand, and says, “of course. ENA, I- I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, ever since our second meeting. About how- nice it was, for you to think about me. About how I’ve never had someone listen to me like that before. About you in general, how pretty you are, how-“

Then- she shuts up, feeling like she may be going, uh. Into the too honest, too fast, territory. But. She hopes ENA gets the idea. That what she’s feeling is genuine.

And, thankfully, wonderfully- it looks like she does.

She still looks a little lost, at first- lagging behind on the comprehension- but with every second, a blink, two, she seems to get it , and she looks… Wow.

She looks like a sunrise.

Bright. Color returning to her face, in full reds, oranges and pale yellows and teals, even more alive than she normally looks. Full of joy, the lighter side of her face curling into a wide smile. And, a light laugh accompanying the words that Coral immediately decides is her favorite sound, she says, “I- me neither…”

Coral’s own lips pull into a grin, her heart feeling lighter than air, as she intertwines her fingers between ENA’s claws. And, just because she’s curious, and has already thrown all her inhibitions away apparently, asks, “is that… why you started gifting me in the first place? Did you…?”

She’s not sure how to word it. But she’s just been wondering, what ENA saw in her…

ENA’s head tilts, expression turning thoughtful, switching to her masculine voice. “Did I… find you attractive, you mean?”

Coral’s not sure if that’s what she meant, but. What the hell. Why not? She wants to know. So she nods.

ENA hums, eyes wandering. “I’m not… sure. Attraction has always been a- weird thing, for me. But,” and she pauses; rubs her claws across Coral’s fingers; and though she’s looking down and away, an embarrassed tint to her complexion, there’s a small, hesitant smile on her face. “I think what I saw was a… connection. Someone who could- potentially come to maybe understand me, or at least- not hate me. And with every interaction.. you superseded my expectations. So of course, I wanted to give something in return…”

And at this, she trails off. Her hold on Coral’s hand stilling. Her smile falling, something- unreadable crossing her eyes. And she slowly looks back, voice quiet, as she says, “I still do.”

Coral furrows her brow, the light happiness bubbling in her chest settling down into something more- disconcerted. She runs her fingers through ENA’s hair. “What do you mean?-”

ENA inches closer.

Coral suddenly becomes very aware of their position - her sitting on the edge of the toilet and ENA kneeling on the tiles in front of her, between her legs, looking up. The hand holding Coral’s moves, to rest on her chest. Above her heart. Guiding her fingers, to slip underneath her shirt. As she repeats, “I want to give something in return.”

Coral’s mouth turns dry.

Her face is heating up, her core warm, her coral acting up, but- something about this doesn’t feel right. Her hand falls from ENA’s hair. It’s not that she doesn’t want this- it’s not like she hasn’t- imagined it… but. But. “W-what-“

“I don’t have much,” ENA continues, not breaking eye contact. Inching even closer. Her chest is cold, underneath Coral’s fingers. She has a blush, still lingering on her face, but- she doesn’t look particularly happy. “I don’t have anything to give to you today- and I’m incomplete. I don't have my better, softer arm. Just these cursed claws. But- well. You remember how I gave one of those to you, back then?”

Her head tilts and dips, ‘till it’s resting on Coral’s thigh. Coral’s free hand, lost in the air, balls into a fist. Something sickly churning in her heated gut.

“Today- I want to give you the rest.”

Coral’s breathing stops.

She stares at ENA- at her wide, empty, vulnerable gaze. At the impassive, downturned angle of her lips. At her own fingers stuck to her skin.

At ENA offering herself- her body- up, below; and her, above.

She yanks the hand away from ENA’s chest.

“Don’t- don’t do that,” She yells, voice breaking. ENA stills, expression shocked. “Don’t say things like that! What- what is wrong with you?!”

ENA- after a second of being frozen, clumsily raises her head and scrambles back, her claws clutching her shirt, her eyes wide and- hurt. “I-“ she stutters, her feminine voice returning, “I- I thought you would want me to- you said you liked me-“

“Yes, I like you!” Coral exclaims, a pressure building behind her eye. She tries to blink it away, hands gripping the lid of the toilet. “That’s why I would never want you to do this! Not like this! I don’t- I don’t want you for just your body!”

ENA shrinks. She looks- confused, jaw tight, shadows climbing further down her face. “But- but you would want the body, right?” she asks, voice a bit breathless. “Right? You said- you said you thought I was pretty, I thought- was I wrong?” her voice is small. “Am I not…”

“No,” Coral breathes, chest constricting. She rises from the toilet, instead kneeling in front of ENA- on one level with her- grasping her hand. “ENA, you’re very, very pretty. I’m very attracted to you. I just-“ she swallows. Squeezes her hand. “it just seemed like to me that you were-“

She doesn’t even know. How do you describe this? How does she describe the- the empty look to her eyes? The unhappy tilt to her mouth? The way she left herself defenseless, for the taking, regardless?

(The way she described her own body, as ‘the’ body?)

She breathes. “It just… it sounded like you were. Dehumanizing yourself… offering yourself up as some, some service, or-“ her mouth pulls to the side, unpleasantly. “or as just some thing. To give to me…”

ENA’s head, after a pause, tilts to the side. Uncomprehending. “I…” she begins, eyes traveling to her hand. Being held in Coral’s. “I just. I pay with my body. I serve others, with my body. It’s just a thing I do, I…” she looks away, brows furrowing in uncertain discomfort. “I didn’t mean anything- bad, by it…”

Coral is kind of left- speechless. By this.

There is- something deep-rooted here. Something very deep-rooted, that she doesn’t even know where to begin unraveling. It’s not like she’s not familiar with dehumanization herself- she’s a glorified printer for ocean’s sake- but this is- g0d…

She sighs. Slow. Heavy. Tries to settle the nerves causing nausea in her gut, the stuttering of coral on her head. And says, “Okay. Okay, I- I get it…” well, she doesn’t. Not entirely. But she gets that- that this probably isn’t something that she’ll be able to change ENA’s mind on, not today. Not this quickly. But she can keep her from immediately self-destructing. “You see your body- differently, that’s fine.” It isn’t in this case, really. “But how I see it- your body is just. You. Yourself. I…” She looks to ENA's claws in her hands. Tightens her hold. Secure. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to- exploit it. Or- or you.”

ENA stares. Tilts her head. Eyes searching for- something, in Coral’s expression.

“Exploit me, huh…” she mutters, tone uncomprehending. “I don’t really- get it… but,” and she moves her hand. To be able to wrap it around Coral’s. “I can see that you- care about me... and I really, really appreciate it.”

Coral lets out a breath. Shoulders sinking.

ENA looks at her for a moment more, before diverting her gaze, her brows furrowing over her wide eyes; her lips pulling down unhappily. “But- does that mean we will never…”

Coral feels a pang in her chest; and she raises one of her hands, to place on ENA's cheek, directing her gaze back to her. She tries to smile, reassuringly. “Let’s… think about that when you’re- actually ready, okay? It’s not a no,” she quickly clarifies, seeing the note of hurt in ENA’s expression. “Just… a ‘not now.’”

She wouldn’t want to do anything like that until ENA feels capable enough to say ‘no’. Until she values herself enough to say ‘no’.

She would hate their first time to be something ENA forces herself into. Consciously or not.

And thankfully- ENA seems to understand, the confusion and hurt gradually leaving her eyes, her shoulder dropping. As she nods, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips.

Coral’s own smile comes easier at the sight of it, too.

“Okay,” she sighs, dropping her hand- looking at the clothes spinning in the washer, at the doorway left open. The artificial, too-warm lights flickering overhead. “Do you want to-“ her words get interrupted by a yawn. Upon it, she chooses to redirect what she was going to say. Instead asking, “…do you want to go to sleep? It’s getting pretty late…”

But ENA responds, “I don’t sleep.”

Coral blinks. Staring at the other, bewildered. “Huh?”

ENA flushes a bit, looking away. “I mean- I can sleep, and I do, but- I usually prefer.. not to… unless it gets. Really dire.”

“That…” Coral stumbles, once again taken aback by… what a disaster ENA is. What the fuck? “sounds really unhealthy.”

“Eh,” ENA brushes past, her face impassive. She leans back, in a way that would have her falling if Coral wasn’t holding her hand, if she wasn’t just a bunch of floating parts put together. “It’s worked for me thus far, hasn’t it? I get more work done that way.”

Coral sighs. Now getting downright exasperated. “Well, you have no work to do now. So you will sleep.”

ENA looks back at her, face turning conflicted. “A-actually, I-“

“No. No no, no work for you. We just had a hell of a day, you are going to sleep.” And she stands up, pulling ENA up with her. Who just stares at her, expression now almost pained.

“No, really, I have to-“

Coral interrupts the masculine voice’s protests, as she squeezes her hand, with, “all of that can wait ‘till the morning. Okay? The world hasn’t ended yet, right?”

ENA’s eyes pinch. Her gaze diverting, face hiding underneath her bangs, the shadows climbing lower. Her claws digging into Coral’s skin.

The cryptic pages float back up to the surface of Coral’s consciousness.

She inhales. She’s not 100% sure that- whatever that was, was also connected to ENA, and why she ended up in that state in the first place- but she has a pretty solid inkling that that might be the situation here. In which case…

She bites her lip; then exhales, leaning down to try to meet ENA’s eyes. She keeps her voice calm, mindful. “Look. Is this a time sensitive situation?”

ENA, refusing to meet her gaze, expression constipated, quietly says, “I don’t- know…”

She wants to reach out and guide ENA’s gaze towards hers- but ultimately chooses not to. The hand in hers is enough. “We already spent a good few hours here. Would a few more really change much…?”

ENA furrows her brows. She’s almost starting to look- angry, or rather- maybe even ‘grumpy’ would be a better word. It’s kinda cute.. “I- guess not…?”

Coral smiles. Swinging their hands a bit. “Then let’s leave this for the morning, okay? We'll think better with a fresh mind and clear cache anyways.”

ENA glares at the air a bit longer- one, two, three, four, five- before letting out a huge groan, expressing it with her whole body. Coral’s just glad to see her loud and expressive again. “UGHHHHH, fine, if you’re really so insistent… you can be a real stubborn bastard, you know that?”

ENA finally meets her eyes, as she says this. Glowering at her, but the way her lips curl up at the edges kind of smothers the heat. Coral snickers. “Takes one to know one, ENA.”

ENA gasps in, assumedly, mock offense. “I’ll have you know, that standing your ground is a very important skill to have in a work environment! You think I got this far by being some wallflower? No. Something you could learn to benefit from, actually!”

Coral frowns. “What? I’m not a wallflower.”

“Well, you certainly carry yourself like one!” ENA exclaims, letting go of her hand to push at her shoulder. “C’mon, fix that posture!”

Coral is offended- but only for a second. As instead, she grasps ENA’s hand again, a smirk climbing her lips as she looks down at the other. “…Not my fault I have to lean down to look at you.”

“Wh-“ ENA stutters, eyes widening. Before she blushes, a sharp, dangerous grin climbing her lips. “Cool it with that attitude, Coral. Or I might just have to shut you up.”

Coral grins in turn; her heartrate speeding up. “Oh? And how are you gonna do that?”

ENA’s face flushes even further. Her eyes boring into hers, their fingers intermingling. And as the sharpness in her grin falls away into something delightfully more genuine, she leans up, up, and Coral closes her eye, until-

And so they kiss, in this cramped, laundry cluttered bathroom with it’s slightly cracked tiles and flickering lights; as ENA’s claws find themselves on her jaw, delicate, and Coral’s own hand runs through ENA’s hair; as ENA pushes further, and Coral stumbles a step back, into the washing machine; as that purring sound starts reverberating from ENA again, making her face tingle, and as the washing machine behind her shakes too; and as ENA's body slots against hers a bit too close, a bit too rough, as her core starts getting all overheated, as her palms get slick with sweat and her mind starts whirring from the- everything — she quickly pushes ENA back a bit, breathing heavily, saying, “E-ENA- while this is- great and all— we said we wouldn’t- do anything yet, and I…”

ENA stares at her, half-lidded, for a second, comprehending- before her face flushes even harder, which is a feat, honestly, and she says, “O-oh- Sorry, sorry, I just…” And she steps back, claws failing to find her other hand to clasp, and instead going to fidget with the fabric of her shorts. As she mumbles, “sorry. Got… overenthusiastic.”

Coral laughs a bit, steadying herself on her feet again, trying to calm her racing heart; and she says, “It’s- it’s fine. We can- we can continue on the bed, if you want…? Just… less. Enthusiastically, this time.”

ENA nods, then nods some more, her face still flushed, her hand moving to cover said face. Eyes dropping down and away. Miserable. “Sorry. I know you said- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to…”

“Hey,” Coral steps closer, taking her hand; so she’s not hiding away. Though she still doesn’t meet her eyes. “like I said, it’s fine... I get it. Let’s just- let’s calm down, and go to sleep, okay? Would that be alright…?”

ENA, after a beat, nods; then slumps. Tilting towards Coral. And says, “that would be- good. Satisfactory. I- I don’t know…”

Her voice stumbled between her two tones there- as if so overwhelmed, or tired, at this point, that she’s lagging behind on herself. Coral smiles, a bit ruefully, deciding that this is all the more indication for them to just go the fuck to bed.

Which, speaking of the bed, actually-

That’s… something that she realizes, when they step into the living room. She has a couch. She has spare bedding. She could just, sleep in that, while…

“Um,” she begins, squeezing ENA’s hand and smiling at her. “I’ll take the couch, okay? You can take the bed.”

ENA frowns. “What? No. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch, we can switch. I’m used to sleeping in much, much worse places anyways, it’s fine.”

Coral decides not to question what exactly she means by that. “No- you’re my guest, and you've had it rough today, it’s fine-“

“Just-“ ENA begins, her claws separating as to not dig into Coral’s skin. “JUST TAKE THE DAMN BED!” She yells, that aggression returning, looking frazzled.

Coral drags a hand across her face. Sighs. Laughs.

This is stupid. They’re being stupid. She’s read enough fiction to know what the solution here is.

“Okay. Okay, how about- we both take the bed…” she asks, then adds, a bit nervously, “if you’re- if you’re comfortable with that, I mean…”

ENA’s expression falls slack, eyes widening a bit. “Oh,” she says. Awkwardly. A small blush growing on her face. “Uh- okay. That would be… fine.”

Coral takes her hand again. “Yeah?”

Just to be sure.

ENA nods, eyes avoiding hers at first- before she blinks, and looks at her. Body still.

Coral offers a smile, squeezing her hand, and leads her to the bedroom.

As she separates from the other to go to the closet, looking through it, she asks, “Do you want to change? I’m sure I have something that would fit you…” And her thoughts do not linger on how ENA would look dressed in Coral’s own clothes, casual and domestic instead of the business appearance she always puts on- they do not.

But ENA is, strangely, kind of quiet in response, after a while only responding with, “I’d… rather not.”

Coral blinks, turning to see the other looking away, holding her side uncomfortably. “You…” she stumbles, “you sure? Surely sleeping in work clothes isn’t the most comfortable?”

ENA waves her hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. It’s…” her lips pull to the side, “it’s what I’m used to.”

Coral stares a bit, then sighs. Alright. As long as ENA is comfortable, she guessed… and she assumes the other doesn’t sweat as much as her either, if she does at all, so…

“Okay,” she says, and moves to the bed, slipping under the heavy covers, taking off her glasses and putting them on the nightstand, and patting the spot besides her with a smile and a “Come on, then.”

ENA hesitates a moment longer, before slowly making way. And then she takes off her shoes- socks?- which Coral is kind of taken aback by, honestly (she assumed those were part of her body; but she supposed, if she was able to slip her fingers underneath her shirt, then… anyways-), and with that, she climbs in. Creeping under the blanket awkwardly, clutching at the fabric, eyes straight ahead and body stiff as a board. Unmoving. Like an abused pup reacting to something soft for the first time. Or a soldier being told to rest.

Coral doesn’t know whether to laugh or feel bad, seeing it.

“…You can relax, you know.” She finally says, watching the way ENA’s mouth twitches to the white side.

“I’m plenty relaxed,” she grinds out, claws tightening on the blanket.

Coral thinks, for a bit- then makes an executive decision. Reaching out her hand. Planting it in ENA’s hair.

ENA stiffens even further; eyes widening. Coral pets her head, running her fingers through her bangs; slightly inching closer. “Is this okay?”

ENA doesn’t meet her gaze; eyes blinking, claws twitching. Her lips wobble slightly. “Why- do you keep touching me…?”

Coral has a lot of reasons for that, honestly. All tied up in that magnetic pull, that makes her want to reach out, to connect their forms, to feel her in her grasp and offer her a gentleness that she apparently so sorely lacks… so in the end, she just answers with, “because it seems like you need it.”

ENA’s eyes pinch. Her claws rattling, as if aiming to grasp something- before clutching the sheets again.

“Am I wrong?”

ENA breathes. Then looks away. Turning away from Coral. “You are. I don’t need it. I’ve never needed it.”

Coral frowns, her heart squeezing in her chest. She leans closer, over ENA, to see the other’s face; brushes a strand out of ENA’s eye, fingers sliding across her forehead. Watches the way her breath quivers, those eyes clouding with something soft and wounded. Her gaze finally meeting hers, wide, her claws raising tentatively, when Coral brings her other hand to graze ENA’s jaw.

“Yet here you are,” she says, lovingly, feeling ENA’s claws grasp her wrist. Lightly trembling. “Falling apart in my hold…”

ENA’s expression crumbles; a high, vulnerable noise escaping her.

Coral leans down, wrapping her arms around the other, bringing her close as she lays. ENA’s face pressing against the skin of her neck. Her claws ghosting across her injured back. She’s still. She’s warm.

After a minute, she quietly says, in her masculine voice, “That must not be comfortable… I’m all edges,” but despite this, that purr is kicking in again. Trickling into being, sporadic, like a glitched machine starting up. Maybe like she’s embarrassed of it.

Coral just squeezes her tighter, feeling her polygons dig into her arms, her chest – she’ll probably have marks by the end of this cuddle session, yes, but she finds she doesn’t really mind it. There’s something nice, about holding someone so solid. “I quite like your edges, actually,” she answers, her voice slightly affected by the hesitant vibration pressed right against her throat. So she adds, hoping to encourage, “…and your noises.”

The vibration short circuits entirely, for a second- before it starts up again, louder now, more steady now, the flat of ENA’s face heating up against her skin. Her claws carefully grasping her shirt.

Coral exhales, bringing one hand to brush through ENA’s hair again, tangling their legs together… soft, human, sweaty skin to sharp mechanical parts, to plush-like red limb. The air filled with inorganic purring, and her own organic polyps echoing glitchy noises in her head. A mesh of contradictions. Something that by all counts of everyone else around her that she shouldn’t love, but does.

Gradually, ENA melts, at ease, against her form. Gradually, her head quiets and fills with soft cotton. Gradually, her vision blanks and everything else disappears.

Just her, ENA, and the visions of her, happy, behind her eyelids.

The following morning is a bit of a mess, to say the least.

From ENA, because she wakes up with a garbled, static scream, shooting up and clutching her chest, the red side of her face falling off to a mangled void. From Coral, because upon being torn into consciousness by this, she takes notice of the dull buzz in her head and the myriad of papers that had been apparently printed out while she slept- which is to say, after attempting to calm ENA down, all awkwardly tender touches and half-asleep assurances that return the red to ENA’s face, she realizes the contents of those pages, and, now fully awake, quickly tries to hide them, crumpling them below the blanket, face marred with a mostly yellow tint (her magenta and cyan tones seemingly running out).

ENA just stares at her, the motor inside her chest settling, feeling confused.

But it’s less hectic after that. ENA goes to take a shower, bemoaning that Coral sweat all over her during the night- which Coral just tries to laugh off (though her face is still suspiciously tinted). And when ENA returns, Coral is sitting by the kitchen table, offering her a cup of coffee – saying she can add anything she’d like (Coral personally likes her coffee extremely watered (or milked?) down – which ENA finds strange, but apparently it’s cause too much caffeine gives her heart palpitations).

ENA just drinks it straight black.

And then-

ENA lingers, on the doorway. Which is something that she never really does. Coral stands in front of her, hands clasped, smile a little tight around her lips- but there’s a light in her eye that ENA hasn’t noticed before, her coral gently pulsing. And so ENA stands, thinking on what to say, what to do…

ENA only has to take one step, arm slightly raising, before Coral is closing the distance and wrapping herself around her.

…Yeah. This has been a new thing.

ENA has never been one to care much for physical touch. She does it sometimes, of course – cordial pats on the back to her coworkers, tapping her customers’ shoulders to get their attention, handshakes between those who miraculously don’t reject her outright… but this. This is something different.

This is deliberate. This is repeated. This is prolonged, this is untethered, this is so utterly gentle and loving and unconditional that it makes her ache. Because she doesn’t deserve this. She knows she doesn’t. She doesn’t deserve Coral holding her heavy and cumbersome body close to her, edges digging into her skin. She doesn’t deserve her holding her hand every chance she gets, sharp claws threatening to pierce too soft flesh. She doesn't deserve her holding her head gently, like she’s something precious, like she wants to drink in every detail of her, eye only on her, and then also have the gall to tease, voice alight with her smile, when ENA feels like bursting from it all, parts overheating, the tangled mess of vines within her chest blooming and electricity running through long untouched wires. It’s just-

It’s new. It’s overwhelming. And yet, ENA feels gravitating towards it still, still hoping every touch won’t be the last – like a frog looking towards rain in a desert. Like a demon being offered the bloody, sweet taste of communion.

She doesn’t deserve it. But she leans into it regardless.

Guilty, guilty…

They part eventually, with Coral giving her one last kiss that sends ENA’s mind reeling – and then she’s waving her bye, asking “I’ll see you later?”, and ENA waves back, nodding – as if she could do anything else. As if she could return to her life before, alone, after Coral has altered her very code like this. She could not.

But she has to.

She has to get back to work.

So, door now closed, she turns on her heel; adjusts her cap; straightens her shoulders, silences the quiet buzzing in her head, breathes out- and puts on a red, charming, plastic smile on her face.

She keeps it up, even as doubts start filtering in again; even as past screenshots intrude on her mind; even as twisted vines start prodding at her insides, as fear and grief grinds her gears, as thoughts of ‘how am I going to solve this, how am I going to get them back, how are they going to look at me, how is anyone going to trust me with work now, how could I have let this happen, how how how—” fill her mind like a landfill, ricocheting through her synapses, locking her claws and tightening the smile on her face until static pools under her teeth and it all start to hurt— but.

She attempts to lock all of that away.

Down, down, down, she presses, until the vines compact, until the gears still, until the static envelops her code and floods her insides and makes everything numb- as she goes through a Door, and, for a lack of a better place to start - arrives at the Casino.

She doesn’t really expect anything there.

She expects it to be painfully deserted.

Only-

As she makes her way through the short hallway, slot machine lights flashing across her eyes and making her dizzy, as she attempts to keep her legs steady as she climbs the stairs, as she begins to emerge-

She hears voices.

Familiar, voices.

They set a sharp pang through her chest, something almost sort of like longing, something too much like fear- although, among that concoction, what stand the most clear as day in her wiring is the confusion.

Why does that sound like…

And, the feeling only intensifies, as the voices get louder, as she climbs higher and higher and finally looks above and sees—

Froggy.

That’s…

That’s Froggy. In the flesh and costume. Arguing with Dratula- Dratula- right as day as if nothing ever happened, as Kane meticulously glues gold between the shards of his piggy bank, as a Jinx makes their way to the Horse door, as the Suspicious Man’s eyes blink and move to meet hers. Dead on.

She-

She kinds of wants to throw up.

“Oi,” she hears, in her dear coworker’s voice, “ENA! Did you get lost in traffic? What’s with the tardiness, we still have a lot of work to do, y’know!”

ENA looks at Froggy, who is now staring at her- Froggy, who she saw- Froggy who…

Froggy who is as okay as any day before.

Her head feels like its spinning. Her CPU feels like crashing. She doesn’t- she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand at all. She wants to ask, she wants to run up to him, she wants to be unprofessional and wrap her arms around him- but instead.

She laughs.

Long and hard, until she’s nearly doubled over- until they’re all staring at her like she’s crazy. Maybe she is. She doesn’t know. She's come to, once more, understand- that she doesn’t understand this stupid, hopeless world at all.

“Hey…” she hears Froggy say, closer now, voice less strict, more careful, than it usually is. “Are you-“

ENA finally quiets, rubbing her claws across her face- painfully aware that she still doesn’t have her red arm. And as she stands up straight, hand outstretching to gesticulate as always, as her grin pulls painfully at her lips- she interrupts him with, “I’m just fine, dear friend. Now, tell me- what’s on the menu for today's toiling?”

The world is usually punishing to her.

But maybe, just maybe-

(Coral’s warm smile, her tender touches, her unrelenting kindness, and now this--)

The universe is starting to want to give her a break, too.