Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Loop joined their Stardust’s little traveling group. 

That was established, and despite their reluctance, there was nothing to be done about it. 

But once they got to their first town to stop in, the group realized that sleeping arrangements would have to change.

Normally it would be (Siffrin and Isabeau) (Mirabelle and Bonnie) and (Odile, all by herself). 

But Loop wasn’t comfortable taking their own room— they didn’t have any money, after all. 

And sharing with Odile felt… like asking too much. They couldn’t share with Siffrin and Isabeau— that was like jamming their thumb into an open wound! 

So the arrangement was changed. 

Odile and Bonnie would share for now, Isabeau and Siffrin got their honeymoon phase alone time, and Loop was left sharing a bed with Mirabelle. 

The idea was that Mira and the Kid would switch as necessary further down the line, if Loop didn’t like sharing a space with the Housemaiden. They were fairly confident that it wouldn’t be a problem. 

They were… mistaken. 

Loop hadn’t ever shared a bed with Mirabelle before. They didn’t expect much— some tossing and turning. 

But Mirabelle, as it turns out, was very cuddly when she slept. 

They’d start the night laying side by side, carefully Not Touching. Then, at some point, Mirabelle would roll over. Pressing her back into Loop’s chest, practically begging for them to wrap their arms around her and hold her close. 

They never did. They’d lay still, focus on staying still. Relax their muscles one by one. And fall into a dreamless sleep. 

The nights that made it harder on them, though…

They’d be facing away from her (they now slept like this nearly every night after the first time) and she would roll over, throwing an arm and a leg over their side and burying her face into their back. 

Over the course of the night she would cuddle closer and closer til she was squeezing them, around the middle, like a—…

They forgot the word. 

A toy?

Close enough. 

And still, they’d fall limp, while she treasured and cuddled and touched them like she loved them. 

Like they comforted her, made her feel warm and safe. 

It was honestly easier to think of themself that way. Like a toy for her to hold and keep safe and love, not a cheap off-brand replacement Siffrin. 

No, a doll— that’s the word— a cherished, beloved doll. Something that was made to be held and loved and doted on, carried around no matter what, dressed up and played with. 

Dolls don’t have to worry about things like whatever devastating social faux pas they had made earlier that day, because that would be ridiculous. Dolls don’t have to feel uncomfortable about the state of their unfamiliar body, because they were made to be loved anyway. 

So in their head, the second the lamplight dimmed for the night, that’s what they became. They’d put all their focus on staying still and wait for the firm-soft-warm embrace of Mirabelle around them, the feel of her satin pajamas and her slow, steady heartbeat. 

They’d be rewarded for their stillness, every time. They loved her touch so much. Part of them wished that they’d be allowed to have it during the day, too. 

But if they could stave off her nightmares as she slept, that could be enough. 

Chapter Text

They hadn’t gotten any clothes yet. They didn’t exactly have anything to hide, smooth as they were, but Odile eventually insisted. 

They weren’t sure what they’d feel comfortable in, really, so Mirabelle ended up taking them to a couple different boutiques. 

“Just to try stuff on for now,” she assured. “You don’t have to make any decisions til you’re sure, okay?”

Part of them wondered if this was a skill she had developed as a Housemaiden of Change. Guiding people through a new sense of style as they Changed, as they grew into themselves…

They felt safe in her hands. They trusted her to help them feel… better about their body, at the very least. She had already done so much just by being willing to touch them, even if it had to be when she was unconscious and unaware. 

Plus, they were deeply jealous of her sense of style. They had fantasized about just… borrowing some of her clothes in the house. Just to feel something new against their flesh. 

“I hope we find something you like,” Mira smiled. “Are you thinking more skirts? Or pants?”

“I’m not sure,” they shrugged. “I haven’t ever thought about clothes outside of whatever’s easiest to wear, really.”

“Really? That’s a shame! You’re so pretty!”

She said it like it was the easiest conclusion in the world to come to. Loop instinctively hiked their shoulders up, trying to hide their face in a cloak that wasn’t theirs anymore. 

“I— I’d hardly say that,” they flustered, following her through the door of the boutique. 

“Booo,” she stuck her tongue out, taking them by the hand and pulling them inside. Her hands were soft, but firm around theirs. 

“Hmm… let’s try something simple first…”

And Loop was given a number of garments. Leggings, lounge pants, shorts, and a floor-length skirt to start. 

They tried each one on from within the comfort of the dressing room, but… nothing felt. Right. 

Their body wasn’t something to be celebrated or adorned. Maybe they’d feel better wearing something that covered their body like the cloak. Hid it away where they’d never have to think about it agai—

“Um! Loop?”

They paused. 

“Yes…?”

“I, uh… I was looking at the racks, and this looked like it might be your size? I don’t know if it’s your style necessarily, but— but I think it would look cute on you!”

Mirabelle slid a bundle of fabric under the door of the changing room, right at Loop’s feet. 

Cute on you. The words echoed in their head, making their insides go all gooey and sparkly. She thought they were cute? 

Or, well, they would be. 

They didn’t even look in the mirror after pulling on the dress. It was a flowy, lengthy thing, with pockets and a high waist. The sleeves gathered at the wrist, looking almost princess-like. 

They didn’t let themself look at their reflection. They didn’t want to sully whatever Mira would say with what they’d think about themself. It didn’t matter what they thought if Mira thought they were cute. 

They stepped out from behind the door. 

“Oh! That was quick—“ she cut herself off with a gasp. “Oh Loop…”

Her eyes sparkled, and her smile was warmer than all the sunshine they’d been missing all those years in the House. 

They did a little twirl to feel the skirt billow, and Mira clapped like she was watching them perform a magic act. 

“Wow!!! You look beautiful!”

They stumbled a little, dizzy from the compliment and the spinning. 

She giggled as she moved closer, taking their hands into her own. 

Loop always felt taller than her, but the reality of the situation is that they aren’t that much taller at all. Shorter, in fact. She looked down at them, ever so slightly, and it made them feel even smaller. 

“Do you feel pretty?”

“I do now,” they answered without hesitation, smiling with their eyes, feeling flustered under her attention. ”Has anyone told you lately that you have good taste?”

She giggled again at that. “You’re just saying that! Keep feeding my ego and we’ll be here all day, having you try on the frilliest fanciest dresses I can find!”

Loop…

Hiked their shoulders up, sparkling a little at the concept. Mirabelle’s eyes widened. 

“Unless— unless you’d like that? We can do that!”

They felt that warm, honey-thick feeling in their stomach and chest again. Like a doll. A favorite doll, spoiled with pretty clothes and doted on and loved. 

“I… would like that, I think. I enjoy your company, my dear housemaiden.”

Chapter Text

Loop woke up to nails digging into their sides. 

They hadn’t been properly asleep just yet, not really. They rarely slept too much before they started sharing a bed with Mirabelle, but old habits die hard. 

Nails digging into their sides was new, though. 

They managed to keep themself from flinching, feeling Mirabelle’s ragged breaths against their back, the staccato of her frightened heartbeat. They could handle the pain, they didn’t care. 

She must have had a nightmare. Something bad , something that messed with her head. 

What had she dreamed about? What hurt her so badly that she couldn’t escape it even in sleep? How could they fix it? How could they make sure she was never afraid or sad or hurt ever again?

They didn’t need to breathe, but she did. And she was doing a bad job at it in that moment, quick and shallow like a frightened prey animal. 

They couldn’t let her be alone in her fear. Not ever again. Loop owed her that. 

So, as if it was still natural for their body, Loop took a deep, slow breath. Then another. In and out. In and out. 

Gradually, she relaxed her hands, and her breathing began to sync to theirs. In and out. In and out. 

Bit by bit, she was calming down. That was good. They were worried it wouldn’t work, or that they’d scare her more. Make things worse again. 

She took one last breath, deep and shaky, filling her lungs completely… and sighed, pressing her cheek against the curve of their spine. Her breath rolled across their back and they shivered. 

Mirabelle’s hands flattened out along their skin, winding further around to rest over the center of their chest, where their star sat. It felt… oddly intimate. They didn’t have a heartbeat anymore, but they were familiar enough with their awful new body to know that it thrummed in that spot, a hum that shifted and flowed. They hoped it didn’t bother her too much.

(It felt almost sticky under her fingers, like gentle static on laundry that was Crafted dry, like fabric clinging to her hands. It was nice, really. Humming softly like the sea beneath a boat.)

She curled in on herself, on Loop. Tucking her legs up underneath their own, her thighs and shins pressing skin-to-skin against their own. Her skin was noticably cool to the touch, which was odd…

Oh! She had kicked off the blankets in her sleep, it seemed. Loop arched their leg, kicking it back up into arms reach—

Mirabelle pulled back a bit and Loop felt like they’d lost a vital organ. 

No, don’t go, don’t let me go, I’ll be good! I’ll stay still! If I can’t be the person I used to be, at least let me have this!

Mira whispered, hands hovering. “Sorry—“

“You’re fine,” Loop insisted, trying not to sound desperate. “I’m just pulling up the blankets.”

She stayed still, hesitant. Loop didn’t dare move again, but… 

They finished pulling the blankets up, rolling over to face her as they tucked the comforter over her shoulder. Her eyes were puffy, only visible in the dim light Loop naturally exuded. 

They kept their arms close to their chest, looking for a sign. They’d never talked about the cuddling thing. It was just something they did together, wordless and fragile. Like if they talked about it they’d have to stop. 

Neither of them spoke. 

Loop felt hollow inside, like cold porcelain. They wanted her to reach out. Needed it. Needed to feel real, to feel warm, to feel lo—

Mirabelle 

Reached out her hands

And wrapped her arms around their chest, drawing them near. She moved slow, like she was afraid any sudden movements would scare Loop away. 

They couldn’t take the look in her eyes, that soft seeking-comfort gaze centered on them. They felt small and soft in her pajama pants, and in her embrace. 

They wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her and never let her go again. 

They didn’t do that. They were never great at keeping the things they wanted, and maybe if they were the thing being kept this time, they wouldn’t have that taken from them too.

They let her come to them. They went soft and pliant when she met their surface. She wrapped them up and tucked her head into the crook of their neck, tangling their legs together, balling her fists against their back. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking deep breaths again. She was safe. They were hers, and she was safe. 

“Of course, Mira,” came their own voice, achingly soft.

Loop felt her start to doze back off, cuddled up against them. They waited until soft snores bubbled up from her throat before letting themself relax fully. 

Loop didn’t dream. 

Chapter Text

They didn’t notice it happening at first. 

It was a series of subtle, near negligible changes. Things they wouldn’t have noticed if they didn’t have all the time in the world to notice the finer details of their new body. 

Their skin was softer. Almost fuzzy to the touch, like a peach. That was new. Their skin used to be smooth, almost plasticine. 

They’d started wearing clothes more often now that Mirabelle had offered to pick them out herself. Every morning started with a new pair of clothes set on their sleeping bag, or on the counter, as Mirabelle got ready herself. Like helping Loop was just another part of her process to prepare for the day. 

(They… liked that. Quite a lot. Knowing that she thought about them first thing when she woke up. Part of Loop felt guilty about making more effort for her, but the way she lit up when they’d come out wearing whatever she choose for them… it made everything worth it.)

But the clothes meant that their skin was typically fully covered. And so nobody else noticed it, but they did. 

There were… points of light around their body, now. Little dashes, almost like stitches. 

Then one day, they just… became actual stitches. 

Loop spent a long time rubbing their hands over the seams that had appeared against their skin. They couldn’t shake the taste of sugar in the back of their throat, couldn’t make themself stop smelling like cotton candy. 

(Not that they’d want to. Mirabelle liked the smell. She’d take a deep breath through her nose and cuddle into them further as she slept, and Loop would…)

…

And… 

Loop would wish, wish, wish that they could be something worthy of this kind of love. That they could actually be what they pretended to be in order to make her happy. To be loved. 

To be something made to be loved, instead of discarded. 

…They’d started picking at the stitches when they were alone. Tugging at the thread. It stung, but not like anything they’d ever felt before. 

Pick. Pick. Pick. 

Part of them wanted to steal Siffrin’s knife. Take it to these strange new parts like a seam ripper and figure out what’s inside of them now. Whose blood pumps through them? Is there any at all?

But they don’t. Because a broken doll would be hard for Mirabelle to hold. 

Not that they’d ever want her to know what they are now! No— no matter how much they wanted this, it would be cruel to force that responsibility on her. 

She had other things to worry about. She doesn’t need some useless thing to look after. 

 Just being there already felt like they were asking too much of the others a vast majority of the time. They didn’t know Loop like they knew each other. What use did they have for them? What role did Loop fill besides being a broken backup Siffrin?

…They dug their thumb into the gap between two of the stitches. It didn’t hurt anymore, prickly numbness taking place where the pain once was. 

They felt cheated.

Darkless, downy fluff spilled from the tear in their thigh. 

They couldn’t even hurt anymore. They were already so broken, inhuman, they couldn’t—

The door opened. 

And unfortunately, Loop was facing the door. 

No clothes. Stitches torn and exposed and visible. 

Mirabelle froze, eyes wide. Staring at Loop’s open wound instead of their eyes. 

“Um! Hi! Um?! Are you okay?”

They blinked rapidly. Tears threatened to spill out of the corners of their eyes. No!!!

“I’m fine,” they lied. 

Mirabelle only frowned deeper. Then she took a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks. 

“Okay!” She huffed. “That’s! Obviously not true! So I’ll ask this instead. Can I help you?”

Help? Why would they need help? They weren’t in any pain. 

“…I’m fine?” They repeated, a little desperate. Mirabelle only deflated more. 

Panic welled up in their chest. 

“Um. You can. You’re allowed to.”

Was that the right thing to say? She sighed, nodding, before crossing the room over to Loop. 

“So…” Mirabelle scrunched her face up. “Was… was it always like this…?”

Her hands hovered over their leg. It felt… faintly buzzy now. 

“…The stitches only ripped because I was picking at them,” Loop admitted. Mirabelle’s eyes went wide. 

“Well,” she nodded slowly, like she was talking to a child, or like she thought Loop was stupid. “Let’s. Not do that from now on, okay?”

Loop shrugged, crossing their arms indignantly.

Mirabelle stared at their leg. It was starting to tingle more and more by the second, tangible numbness seeping in from the center outwards towards the rip. 

“I… I don’t know how to sew very well,” she fretted, hands still hovering over them. Like they were too fragile to touch. 

“…I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Just because it doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean you’re not… hurt?”

Loop blinked. “What?”

“Can you really not feel that at all?” Mirabelle frowned, looking more concerned by the second. 

Loop just shrugged again. She took a deep breath. Held it. Then exhaled. Like Siffrin does. 

“Okay. I’m going to go ask Isabeau for help. Is that okay?”

Loop flinched a little. 

Mirabelle whined. 

“Housemaiden—“

She flinched at that. 

“I… really, I can handle myself.”

And they could! They could handle themself just fine. They knew how to do stitches on flesh— it was just like that, right?

Mirabelle chewed the inside of her cheeks. “You don’t have to do it by yourself though,” she said, voice soft. Like it was a secret. “We wanna help you.”

Loop grimaced, leaning backwards. Their leg remained limp. Ragdolled. 

They didn’t want to say what they thought. Their capacity for self hate felt like a dead limb they refused to amputate. They’d have nothing if it was gone. They’d have nothing to cling to, nothing to rely on. No way to provide context for their existence. 

Their urge to make themself suffer was a survival instinct. Giving it up meant death. They knew that. 

“I’m gonna be fine…” (they knew she wouldn’t let them be unless they…) “…Mira.”

She did soften a little, but only for a split second before she steeled her nerves. “Okay! I believe you! But I’m going to get Isabeau, because he’s more familiar with these things. Okay?”

She stared them down. Loop pulled further back, fear pulsing inside of them like a convulsing animal mimicking a heartbeat. 

”Loop…”

They shuddered. 

“…Fine.”

Chapter Text

 “…Huh.”

Isabeau was just staring at them. They’d sat up on the desk in the little room Isabeau had been staying in, their legs spread. Mirabelle sat next to them, one of her hands holding one of theirs. 

“I mean,” his cheeks burned, then his ears. “It’s— it’s just a popped seam. I could fix it in, like, two minutes tops! ”

Mirabelle chewed the inside of her cheek anxiously. “But…?”

“But I don’t… want to hurt you.” 

Loop groaned loudly, and Isabeau recoiled in anxiety. They reached forward and grabbed Isabeau’s wrist, pressing his hand against their leg. 

“What does that feel like?”

Isabeau’s eyes went wide and round and owlish.  “Um. Uh.” He moved his hand, and both of them held back a shiver. “…Minky?”

“…Fabric. Not glass? I’m not made of glass?”

“Um!” Isabeau shook his head. “N-no…???”

“Then don’t treat me like I’m fragile, if you’re capable of that,” they hissed. 

“Right. Sorry. Um. I’ll— I can get my sewing kit, then!”

Loop released his hand and waved their own, dismissing him. He scuttled off, rummaging through his belongings. 

Mirabelle was frowning at Loop. “You know he’s just worried…”

“Well,” they sighed. “He shouldn’t be. I’m fine— ”

Mirabelle cut them off by poking them hard in the side. They yelped, recoiling back. “M-Mira—?!”

“If you say that you’re fine one more time I swear—!!! ”

She kept poking them. It hurt! Ow!!!

 Isabeau came back quickly, holding a basket in his hands. 

Loop didn’t pay too much attention as he meticulously set up his sewing supplies, but they did pay attention when Isabeau hesitantly produced a pair of square frame glasses, perching them on the bridge of his nose. 

Oh. Loop… didn’t know he wore glasses. Huh. 

…

(He looked really nice in them.)

He pulled a chair up close, settling between Loops legs. Even now, he seemed hesitant to touch them, but… after a long moment he managed to steel his nerves and place one hand on Loop’s knee, spreading their legs further.

“Hmm,” Isabeau frowned. “It’s… it’s backstitched, but… hmm.”

“Is that good?” Mirabelle tilted her head. 

“Usually it’d be fine, but if Loop keeps picking at the stitches, maybe a ladder stitch would be better… that way the threads are hidden.”

Loop squirmed. His hand was warm. They could feel that now. He kept accidentally squeezing their thigh as he talked. 

“Either way, I’m gonna have to spend a while taking out the frayed thread before I restitch it…”

There was something so… flustering. About the situation. About being talked about like they weren’t even in the room, cared for like it was obvious to want to do that.

 Isabeau settled in closer, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Loop could feel his breath as he worked. They expected it to hurt. They wanted it to hurt. But as Isabeau tugged at each tattered thread and set them aside one by one, warm tingles spread through their body. It was like when Mirabelle touched them, almost.

But there was an undercurrent of sensation that spread through them as Isabeau touched them, pinching the fabric together as he lined up his needle. It was warm and fuzzy and all-encompassing. 

Loop wanted to flinch against him. Wanted to run away. Wanted to tug at their own traitorous body until all of their seams burst and there was nothing left that could be seen as a person. 

They didn’t. 

They felt strangely sluggish and tired. The needle made them squirm as Isabeau wove it in and out, but as he got towards the bottom of the cut, some of the stuffing had begun to leak out. 

So naturally, remembering his experience fixing Siffrin’s doll, he just… poked it back in. And it shouldn’t have felt like anything, but—!!

It was like… poking at a bruise, but with pleasure instead of pain. A dull fissure of good oozed into their body as he pressed the fluff back into them, compacting it so he could continue sewing. 

“Mmh—!!”

Isabeau paused, fingers still inside them. He looked up at Loop like he had forgotten he was working on anything other than a toy, but his eyes went wide and soft with concern again. 

“Are— are you okay? Did that hurt…?”

Loop hesitated to answer. They didn’t want him to know how they felt. The warm intrusion of his fingers inside of their body took up a majority of their brain power. 

“…No, it didn’t hurt,” they managed to stammer out.

 Isabeau continued to hesitate. If you looked up trepidatious in the dictionary, there would be a photograph of Isabeau next to it to illustrate its meaning. 

But despite his fear, he pulled back, finishing up the stitches. 

Each time the needle went in, Loop would have to repress a shudder. This should hurt it should hurt why did this not hurt?!

They were furious. It wasn’t fair. If they felt pain from this, it would be less selfish. It would absolve them of enjoying the act of being cared for, because at least they were suffering in some respect. It wasn’t right that it felt good to be stitched back together after their little meltdown. It wasn’t right that they enjoyed being treated like— like a toy!

They weren’t worth all this effort. They didn’t bring anything to the table— they were barely even a person, if that at all anymore. 

Isabeau pulled the thread and the two halves of the fabric were tugged taut, flush against each other. He tied off the last knot, severing the thread with his teeth. 

“There,” he nodded. “Does that feel better, Loop?”

He looked so proud of himself. They felt humiliated, ashamed… loved. And even more humiliated and ashamed for feeling that way at all.

 Loop still hadn’t answered. They rubbed their own arms, seeking comfort and warmth in their own tepid, cottony flesh and finding none. 

“Loop…?”

Mirabelle wrapped an arm around them. She wasn’t often very affectionate with them in front of other people. Loop understood why— she was probably ashamed of how clingy and obsessive they became once they got a taste of her. 

Their eyes fluttered shut at her touch, regardless. 

“It… feels better. Thank you, f—“

Mirabelle squeezed them. 

“…Thanks, Isabeau.”

And, oh, how he lit up at that. Like he had just seen sunlight for the first time in years. 

“For sure, no problem! Just, uh— let me know if you ever get hurt again? It looks like it’s… something I can help with, now!”

They winced, guilt clawing up their throat. They didn’t want to make him do that, didn’t want to become another problem for him to try and solve. 

…Speaking of problems. Loop cleared their throat. 

“Um. Please don’t tell Stardust about this.”

They both frowned at them. “Loop…”

“We’re gonna have to tell the others about this. It’s… kind of important,” Mirabelle insisted. Isabeau nodded in agreement. 

“Your body is… changing. And— it’s not a bad thing! But it’d probably be for the best that everyone knows what’s going on.”

They whined. They felt awful. Rotten. Selfish and greedy and needy. 

The two of them didn’t even know Loop very well, if at all. They were a stranger. An interloper. 

They weren’t a friend. They were a parasite . They knew that, and it was only a matter of time until the others figured that out about them too and left them behind. 

So it was better if they didn’t let themself want things they’d only lose. 

And maybe it would be better if the others knew. The more they know, the sooner they’ll realize how broken and rotten Loop is and stop delaying the inevitable. 

“Tell them whatever you want,” they bit out, drawing in on themself. “I don’t care.”

 Neither of them seemed to like that response! 

“I…” Mirabelle sighed, resting her head on Loop’s shoulder. 

(Warmth flooded their system. This was good, this was right.)

“Look, Loop,” she continued. “I’m… worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Loop chirped, trying to sound confident and failing. “I’m just peachy!”

Isabeau grimaced. “You… you gouged a hole in your own leg, Loop.”

Mirabelle nodded in agreement. “People who are fine don’t usually do things like that.”

Rats. That’s probably true. Loops eyes darted around the room before they crossed their arms, turning away. “I… it didn’t hurt. ”

“And that worries us,” Mirabelle insisted. “What if your leg gets caught on a branch and you lose a bunch of stuffing? What if you fall in a river and can’t swim because you get too heavy? What if—“

“What Mira is trying to say,” Isa interjected, putting a hand on Loop’s knee again. “Is that… there’s a few new risks we’re gonna have to look out for. And— and that’s okay! But everyone should be informed of what to look for, so that we can keep you safe as best as possible.”

Because they were a danger to themself and others. Right.

“Like I said, fighter ,” they hissed. “I don’t care. Tell everyone I’m flammable, tell the whole blinding world that I’m even more inconvenient and fragile now, why don’t you?!”

They tugged at their… hair? Something. Either way. They were tugging at it, shoving Mira away without thinking. They were so useless, so—!!!

Isabeau and Mira both stared wide eyed. 

“Loop…” Isabeau whispered. Loop winced back away from the pity in his tone. 

“Do you really think we think of you like that…?”

They drew in on themself. Pulled their legs up against their chest.  The stitching Isabeau just did felt… odd. A little tighter than usual. 

They shrugged. “You should be. I— what have I done but cause problems for you all? It… it just makes sense. That you’d be looking for any chance to get rid of me.”

Mirabelle wrapped her arms around them, tugging them closer. She stumbled a little— they were lighter than she expected now. Just stuffing inside. 

“Loop, look at me.”

Her voice was more stern than usual. Loop obeyed, fearful. She was frowning sadly, but there was a spark of anger in her eyes. 

“Loop,” she continued, voice soft but severe. “Do you really think I’m that mean…?”

Oh. No? Obviously not— Mirabelle is the kindest person Loop had ever met. 

“N— no???”

It’s just different. With them, it’s different. They’d deserve it. 

“Then— then don’t use my voice to belittle yourself, okay?! That’s not fair to me— to any of us!”

She grabbed their shoulders and shook them! Ah!!! 

“Loop, I...! Wouldn’t think those things about you at all!!! I love you, Loop! You’re my friend! ”

…

WHAT?!

Chapter Text

They blinked at the others. Head going fuzzy. 

Mirabelle squeezed them hard around the chest, like she was pouring her frustration into it. They sat there, frozen, in a state of shock. 

Friends? They were friends? They— she had never said that before. It felt too presumptuous to assume…

But she said it like it was obvious. Was it obvious? 

And—

If they were friends, then…!

Loop, slowly, taking care to telegraph their motions, wrapped their arms around Mirabelle’s waist. 

Their throat ached with choked back crying. Their entire body ached with it, really. It hurt it hurt it hurt…!

They tried to breathe, but then Isabeau moved closer too, setting his sewing supplies aside and sitting next to Loop. His hand, broad and warm and alive, rested on Loop’s shoulder blades. 

“You’re okay, buddy, you’re okay…”

His voice was so sweet. He cared too, then? They…

Shuddered. Then Mirabelle buried her face in the crook of their neck, one of her hands moving to rest on top of Isabeau’s, keeping them secure, and Loop…

…burst into tears.

Mirabelle and Isabeau both paused, then relaxed a bit, pulling Loop in tighter. It felt like they were squeezing all the pent up feelings out of them, wringing them out like a soggy washcloth. 

“You’re okay,” Mirabelle repeated Isabeau’s words. “We’ve got you.”

Ugh, they felt disgusting in every possible way. Every inch of them ached and stung. Their breathing began to slowly even out from the staccato hiccuping that was forced through them. 

“It’s—“ they tried to speak, their voice strained. 

And, in their hazy panic, they forgot to make it sound different. They sounded like Siffrin, they were sure of it. 

They stopped talking, not trusting their traitorous voice box not to say too much. But maybe… maybe it’d be nice. 

Maybe it’d be nice if they knew. Maybe it would make them feel seen again, make them feel like less than a discarded, failed proto-Siffrin that nobody wants. 

Maybe it would feel nice to be seen.

But… no. They couldn’t take that from their Stardust, it was too cruel. Too selfish. They couldn’t even remember their own family’s names by the time they got desperate enough to escape. 

They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve any of this kindness.

They wanted to say something. 

They’d die if they did.

They wanted to be seen again. To be known and understood. 

But just talking about what had happened to them was enough that it would take away from Siffrin. 

They didn’t have a choice. They couldn’t say anything. They couldn’t be vulnerable here, couldn’t open up. It just wasn’t possible— not without hurting the people they love most all over again. 

Isabeau and Mirabelle were looking at them strangely, their hands shifting against Loop’s back. They wiped their eyes off on their shoulders and pulled back. 

“What?”

“What is that…?” Mira mumbled, like she hadn’t heard them. 

Her fingers were toying with something. It felt… weird. Like having their hair played with but not quite. Plus it was in the center of their spine for some reason. 

Isabeau’s hand shifted down as well, leaving Loop pressed against their chests as their fingers poked and prodded at their back. 

Okay. Sure.

“Was that always there?”

Loop was hardly paying attention. They were both warm and soft… they were starting to drift off. All the adrenaline in their body after their little fit was leaving them limp and exhausted. 

“I don’t think so… I— I would have noticed, right?”

“You share a bed. You would have noticed.”

They were fussing with whatever was back there, pawing at the place where it protruded. It felt good, almost electric, buzzy. 

“Should… should we..?”

“I mean… if it hurts, we’ll know.”

They closed their eyes, burying their face in the space between the two of them. They could rest. Just for a—

Vrrrrrp!

Their body felt

strange for a 

moment.

Like all their muscles tensed up at once, and then released. 

Like they’d just realized something that was scaring them would actually be okay.  

Like their

lungs were

being squeezed!!!

“Love you,” their voice croaked. 

Everything froze. Everything except the string slowly retreating into their chest again, winding back up.

…

”It’s… a pullstring,” Isabeau noted.