Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marina was hopelessly and embarrassingly late to a catch-up she herself had planned months prior. The kind of day you wrote in your planner and highlighted as a cherry on top, certain you wouldn’t forget it. And yet here she was, arriving at the train station far past what was acceptably late, her phone pinging with notification after notification.

It wasn’t out of carelessness. Unfortunately, music production was harder than it seemed. The work consumed her, flooding in and out of her in the way that blood does, in the way that music did for her. She was grateful for it - grateful for an escape, an outlet. But work was work nonetheless. And in putting her work forward, she’d neglected the little amount of friends she had made since moving here.

She grew up in a small town, where everyone knew your news before you did, where the walls whispered and the front porch listened. The streets remembered your footsteps, and yesterday’s gossip hung in the air like that sweet smell that only comes around during the summer. Secrets had short life spans and long shadows. Once something was out, you could never outrun it. You couldn’t rewrite your story, because it was already written for you.

She was the golden girl - the one every guy wanted to be with, and the one every girl wanted to be. Top of her class, the daughter who never pushed back, who folded her deepest dreams and desires deep inside of herself. But what she was never taught was that perfection is brittle. Once you think you’ve perfected it, it breaks.

This is the fate that fell upon Marina Ida on one seemingly trivial autumn day. Her childhood best friend stared at her with wide eyes, utterly and completely in love. Marina thought she had peaked at this moment. Nothing else could ever have compared to Acht looking at her like she could see right through her. When her lips were on Marina’s, she swore she saw heaven. And she did, just for a moment, before she was dragged down to hell.

When they found out, all her parents talked about was exactly that - hell, where she’d be going. Her mom walked in - of course she did - as Marina’s hands trailed everywhere over Acht’s body, going dangerously close to places she shouldn’t have even been thinking about to begin with. From then on, her life was an endless chorus of whispered sneers, robotic preaches, and crying that never seemed to end. From her. From her parents. From Acht, who was banned from ever seeing Marina again.

Her parents repeated their beliefs so often they filled Marina’s brain, nearly seeping out of her pores and the filling tears that never seemed to go away. Their mantras sank into her skin, infecting her blood stream. There was shouting, and then there was silence. They refused to speak to her. The townspeople forbade their children from talking to her. Acht had faded away like she was nothing more than a memory. Her once bright life dimmed down to grayscale.

So Marina ran. She ran as far as she could. To the city, to the music that reverberated around its walls. To anonymity. She remade herself into a chorus of echoes and drum loops, picking away at the silence that had once tied itself around her like a snake, ready to kill her at any moment.

The still wall of her thoughts shattered with a sound that resounded over and over in her head.

Marina heard the laughter before she saw the person it came from. It was loud, cracked and uncontrollable. Turning the corner, she saw who the laugh was attached to.

A girl with cracked glitter eyeliner and a ripped up black t-shirt was laughing - no, cackling - uncontrollably. Marina’s heart started echoing. All she could hear was blood rushing through her ears and the melodious sound of the girl’s laughter. It rang through the train station like someone had let a crazy ghost loose in a coffee shop.

She had never, ever, been this instantly attracted to someone. Not romantically, necessarily. But when she saw her, she knew that this girl was someone she needed to have in her life. She nearly stopped in her tracks, but someway, somehow, she kept on walking.

Closer and closer to the girl, hair bleached like she thought it would never fall off, black polish chipped to all hell, Marina’s head got dizzier and dizzier. She looked around to see what the girl was laughing at.

A pigeon.

She was laughing at a pigeon.

The girl glanced up, catching Marina mid-stare. She smiled, her canines sharp. Marina’s heart beat even faster, which she thought was not possible. Apparently, it was.

“Yo,” the girl said. “This pigeon just tried to steal my bagel.”

Marina’s eyes widened. She blinked, trying and completely failing to come up with something witty. “Did…did it succeed?”

The girl tilted her head. “Nah. I’m too fast.”

She took what seemed like the final bite of her bagel, closing her eyes as she savored it.

“Mm,” Marina said, nodding. She had no idea what else to say. She needed to go, but something in her was holding her there.

The girl squinted at her, like she was trying to place her from a dream. Then she smiled. “You look like someone who respects the bagel struggle,”

“You…could say so,” Marina said, although she hadn’t had a bagel in years.

The girl walked up to her. With every step bringing her closer, her heart beat more wildly.

“I’m Pearl,” she said. “Pearl Houzuki. Artist, visionary…victim of avian assault. You got a name, or are you just Bagel Witness Number One?”

Marina laughed in spite of herself, holding out her hand. “I’m Marina. Marina Ida.”

“Marina Ida. Pretty name,” Pearl said, accepting the handshake. She twisted out the syllables in Marina’s name as if she was savoring them. Then she added, “Oh, sorry if I got cream cheese on you.”

She had, indeed, gotten cream cheese on Marina’s hands. She grabbed Marina’s wrist and wiped off her palm with her shirt, the cream cheese making a stark contrast on the black fabric.

“It’s…now you have cream cheese on your shirt, you didn’t have to do that.”

Pearl shrugged. “Can’t be making a bad impression on you, now can I?”

Marina lifted her eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

Pearl looked at her as if explaining the obvious. “Well, you meet a pretty girl, you try not to get stale cream cheese all over her.”

Marina could feel a strange warmth flooding her face. Thankfully, she was spared a response, as the train came roaring into the station.

Pearl sighed. “A shame. Is this yours?”

Marina nodded meekly.

“Hm. Well, truth be told, it’s not mine. But…” she pulled out a pen. “You seem like a cool girl to be around. Chill. I like that. Can I give you my number?”

“You…want to be friends with me?”

Pearl laughed again, a sharp, melodious sound. “Duh. If you don’t wanna, just say the word, and I’ll -”

“No!” Marina squeaked. Her face heated up as she explained further. “No, I want to be your friend.”

She held out her hand, followed by a sharp grin from Pearl. Pearl scribbled her number on Marina’s palm.

“Nice,” Pearl said. “Well, I’ll be waiting for a call. See you, Marina.”

“See you,” Marina murmured, but Pearl was already on her way.

Marina watched her go, watched the way her thick boots clunked rhythmically against the concrete. The way her short, bleached to all hell hair still managed to look smooth and beautiful. She melted into the crowd like a character exiting a stage.

She stared at her palm. The ink was slightly smudged from the cream cheese that had been there moments prior and the heat of her palm. Underneath the numbers, Pearl had drawn what looked like a tiny pigeon. Marina felt like she was melting. Or standing on air. Or both. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

The train doors slid open with a chime, but Marina stood there a little longer, starstruck, caught in the aftershock of the encounter. She should’ve been thinking of her friends, who had now been waiting forty-five minutes for her, but her head rushed with thoughts of Pearl. True to her name, she felt like something Marina needed to hold onto. Something rare, something beautiful. The moment shimmered, oddly distorted. Weightless and out of time, like something that only happens in dreams or in movies where the girl gets the guy.

Or, when the girl gets the girl, she reasoned.

Chapter Text

Marina led the way down a narrow street with bright murals and crooked lamp posts. Her heeled boots clicked into the cobblestone path. She was certain that this road looked even prettier at night. She was a sucker for dim lighting and pretty views. Everything just seemed magical. Though, it usually did when she was with Pearl.

Their steps fell into a lazy sync, and Marina’s hand brushed against Pearl’s. The first brush was an accident, a fleeting moment of contact. The second time, it lingered just a heartbeat longer. The third time, their fingers brushed and stayed there, barely. Marina didn’t look down, didn’t move. Pearl said nothing, kept walking, her expression unreadable. Maybe she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she had, and she decided not to pull away. Either possibility made Marina’s stomach twinge uncomfortably. She was pretty sure that if she opened her mouth, something stupid would fall out.

This marked the fifth time they’d seen each other outside of their daily texts and nightly video calls, and Marina could already feel something shifting in her chest. There was an ease to being around Pearl, a rhythm that they both subconsciously followed. Each moment they spent together peeled back another layer of Marina’s mind. She hadn’t expected it to happen this quickly, but Pearl was climbing the invisible ladder of Marina’s affection, nearing the top at an alarming rate. Which was strange, because since she’d met her, that spot belonged to Callie. But now when Marina needed someone to talk to, her finger didn’t hover over Callie’s contact. She made a mental note of arranging a day out with her, since they hadn’t properly spoken for probably the longest time since they’d met.

When Pearl asked her to hang out today, she said the plan was the same as last time: grab coffee (or boba, in Pearl’s case) at the cozy little shop just a block from Central Park and make up wild stories about the people walking by. Pearl was somehow effortlessly funny, making observations and saying such scandalous things in such a deadpan voice that Marina choked on her coffee more than once.

But in typical Pearl fashion, they had walked by a makeshift open-air market that she insisted on stopping by.

“We’re not just hanging out,” Pearl declared after dragging Marina across the street. “We’re going on an adventure.”

“What kind of adventure?” Marina asked, warily eyeing her.

“Uh, the fun kind, duh.”

“What if I don’t want…” Marina looked up at a sign. “Weird moss?”

“Well, that’s too bad, you’re…no, we. Cause we’re in this together, aren’t we? We’re getting weird moss.”

Before Marina could even get a word out, maybe to ask exactly where they were going, or at least ask for a warning, Pearl disappeared into the crowd. Marina groaned quietly, not quite frustrated, just not prepared for the shift in pace. With a breath, she quickly plunged into the crowd, weaving her way past an aggressively enthusiastic man holding up a plastic bag of what looked like human molars. A cardboard sign was taped to his folding table, which read “Vintage Teeth - Authentic and Blessed.” Marina didn’t make eye contact.

Just a few feet later, a woman in a wide-brimmed hat beckoned her closer with a wink, gesturing to a cluster of mismatched bottles filled with neon liquid. The labels looked like they were printed on a decade old label maker that ran out of ink, because they had been taken over by Sharpie-scrawled promises. Marina shook her head with a nervous laugh, ducking past the woman, who was now shouting about chakra realignment.

The crowd was pressed in on all sides - tourists, street performers, vendors - and somewhere up ahead, Pearl was probably grinning to herself, perfectly at ease. Marina quickened her steps, dodging a juggler and someone in a raccoon costume, her eyes scanning the crowd for that familiar hint of blonde and pink hair. It was absurd, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. Trust Pearl to drag her into the strangest part of the city on a random Tuesday afternoon.

She finally spotted Pearl near a cluster of crowded stalls, locked in an intense negotiation with a street vendor over an enormous, vividly turquoise plush octopus. The thing was at least a head taller than Pearl, which admittedly wasn’t that hard to achieve. The octopus flopped over the edge of the vendor’s table, one eye slightly off center, its tentacles spilling onto the pavement.

“It’s fifty bucks?” Pearl said, brows arched in disbelief. “This thing isn’t even symmetrical. One arm is longer than me, and the other one is sewn on backwards. I’ll give you twenty.”

The vendor, a man in a trucker hat who looked entirely unamused, didn’t even blink. “Fifty.”

“Thirty and a free smile.” Pearl grinned wide enough that Marina winced.

“Fifty,” the vendor repeated, deadpan.

Pearl turned to Marina. “Tell him I’m the customer of his dreams.”

Marina shrugged. “I bet she has fifty bucks.”

Pearl’s jaw dropped, glaring at Marina in mock indignation. “The point is, it’s not worth fifty bucks! Forty-five, c’mon.”

The vendor stared at her. “How cheap are you, kid?”

“Forty-five,” Pearl repeated. “Please. With a cherry on top.”

The vendor shook his head. “Fine. Forty-five.”

Pearl squealed, hugging one of the octopus’ tentacles. She fished out her wallet, pulled out a wad of cash, and handed it to the man.

“Ma’am, this is one hundred and twenty bucks,” he said.

“Is it?” Pearl said disinterestedly, hoisting her octopus onto her shoulders. “Eh, you can keep it.”

“What was all that haggling for, then?” he grumbled.

“Love of the trade, man.” Pearl said. “Love of the trade.”

Marina mouthed a ‘sorry’ to the vendor, who looked like he’d like nothing more than to be a hundred feet away from Pearl at all times.

The octopus’ legs dangled around Pearl’s neck like a weird scarf. She seemed to take pride in it, though, walking around proudly.

“You see how cool this is?” Pearl said, one hand steadying its bulging head. “This is only the beginning. We’re gonna find even cooler things. Life-changing stuff, Marina. Life-changing stuff.”

“Pearl, you can stop repeating things like you’re in an action movie.”

“No can do, Marina. No can do.”

“...Alright.”

They spent the next hour weaving in and out of the crowd surrounding the market, just letting the sights and sounds pull them along. It kind of felt like Marina was in a different universe, one that was stitched together by incense smoke, bright fabric, and the beat of street musicians playing half-tuned instruments. They stopped by a booth selling ‘emotionally charged rocks’, each labeled with handwritten tags like ‘abandonment issues’ or ‘mild disappointment’. Pearl held up one that read ‘perpetual anxiety’ and asked Marina to buy it, so she’d always have a piece of her. Marina passed.

Further down, a man in suspenders and glitter face paint shouted that he could guess your shoe size for five dollars, and “if I’m wrong, I’ll break down crying right here in front of you.” Pearl very nearly paid him just to see if he’d follow through. Marina tugged her away before she could finish her transaction.

They walked up to a small canvas tent tucked in between two food carts. It looked like it might blow away in the next strong breeze. Inside was a long folding table and a sign that read ‘Make your own keychain - $2 - Creativity may be required.’ The tent smelled faintly of glue sticks and dried marker, bringing Marina right back to her childhood. She looked down to ask Pearl about it, but Pearl was already sitting down, grabbing a random handful of glitter foam and plastic beads. Her octopus leaned over her head ominously.

Marina’s attempt was…earnest. She was going for a mini replica of Pearl’s octopus, but decided it was too complex. She shaped something that was supposed to be a jellyfish or maybe a sea star, but the googly eyes wouldn’t stick. It eventually slumped into something that resembled a sea cucumber. Pearl, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in her craft. She molded her foam into a potato-esque blob, gave it a single eye, glued on a jagged smile, and held it up proudly for Marina to see.

“I’d like to think it’s a modernist commentary on late-stage capitalism.” Pearl said.

“It’s a potato,” Marina said flatly.

“You have no vision, Marina.” Pearl held out her keychain like it was a sacred object. “Now give me yours!”

Marina blinked. “I’d rather have my cucumber, thanks.”

Pearl jingled her keychain in front of Marina’s face. “Take my potato, Marina. Do it if you love me.”

Marina didn’t say a word. She just stared at Pearl for a long beat, and then slowly held out her hand.

Pearl’s face lit up as she made the trade, pressing her keychain into Marina’s palm and snatching up the cucumber in return.

“I knew you loved me, Mariiiiiina,” she sang, dragging out the “ee” sound in Marina’s name. Her face lit up as she continued. “Riiiiiiiina. Ooh, I’m calling you that from now on.”

Marina groaned. “Please don’t.”

“Nuh uh, too late! Rina. It’s perfect. It’s cute. It’s memorable. Like you!”

Marina narrowed her eyes. “If you get a nickname for me, then I deserve a nickname for you.”

Pearl flipped her hair, nearly knocking her octopus off of her head. Not that it did much, since her hair was a little past her chin, but the gesture was bold enough to get the point across. “My name is already perfect. You can’t nickname me. It’s short and sweet!”

“So, like you?”

Pearl said nothing, just rolled her eyes in a way that somehow still looked affectionate. Then, with zero warning, she took one hand off of her octopus, reached out, and took Marina’s hand. Their fingers laced together easily, like it wasn’t even a question. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. Pearl tugged on Marina’s hand gently, and they kept on walking through the crowd.

Pearl, with her seemingly omnipotent vision, spotted a booth with a giant sign that said:

TALENT SHOW. WIN $100. OR DON’T. SIGN UP HERE!

Before Marina could react, Pearl turned, squeezing the hand that was already clutched to her.

“‘Rina. Marina,” Pearl said. “This is destiny.”

“No,” Marina said immediately.

“C’mon! It’s fun. It’s fate.”

“You just want to embarrass me.”

“Also that. But mainly fate.”

Marina tried to pull back, her heels digging slightly into the floor. “We’re not…Pearl, I swear…”

But Pearl was already dragging her forward with alarming strength for someone her size. Her octopus wobbled. In seconds, they were in front of the table, facing a teenager with sparkly blue hair who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. She slid them a clipboard with a signup sheet attached.

“What’s your act?” she asked, not even looking up from her phone.

“We’re a band,” Pearl said instantly.

“We’re a…huh?” Marina started, but Pearl elbowed her hard enough that she knew it would bruise.

“A band,” Pearl repeated, angelic. “And we’re named, um…”

She glanced at the girl’s lanyard, which read ‘STAFF - DO NOT UNHOOK FROM LANYARD’. She glanced up, making eye contact with her weird squid. Finally, she made eye contact with Marina’s terrified face. She grinned.

“Off the Hook,” Pearl said. “We’re Off the Hook.”

The girl barely blinked. “Cool. You’re on in twenty. You can head on backstage, choose your instruments or whatever.”

Marina stared at her. “Off the…Pearl. What does that even mean?”

Pearl winked at her, an overexaggerated thing. “Means we’re fresh. Slippery. Cool. No one’s reeling us in.”

“...Oh God,” Marina covered her face, whispering into her hands.

“You don’t mess with it?” Pearl said, grinning.

“I don’t think anyone does.”

“We’re gonna kill it!” Pearl said brightly, swinging around to walk backward in front of her. “You know how to play guitar, right?”

“Pearl, I play the synth. I haven’t even held a guitar since I was like, twelve.”

“You’ll figure it out. You’re good under pressure. Like a diamond.”

“...Oh God,” Marina repeated.

Backstage, Marina sat cross-legged on a pile of tangled extension cords, holding onto the closest thing she could find to a keyboard, which happened to be a toy keytar. She leaned on Pearl’s octopus, biting her lip as she fretted with the pitch bend. Her nerves buzzed, almost worse than the amp feedback coming from whoever was on stage right now. Pearl was pacing in circles, practically vibrating with excitement.

Her fingers grazed over the keys absentmindedly, racking her head with new rhythms. She could play this chord and go into the melody she’d been working on recently? But what was Pearl going to do?

“I still can’t believe you signed us up,” Marina muttered, half to herself.

Pearl stopped pacing. “Hey.”

Marina looked up.

Pearl’s smile softened. “I know I drag you into stuff. But when I saw that sign, I just…felt something. Like this is something we’re meant to be doing. And as for Off the Hook. I know it’s kind of silly, but I kept thinking, like, when I met you? That’s how I felt. Like I was free of everything in my life that's just...not what I want it to be. We’ve only known each other what, two months now? And I feel more free than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

Marina blinked.

“You make me feel like I could actually do something real. Be more than who I am right now, more than my parents, more than…” she trailed off, fidgeting like saying this was hard for her. “So, yeah. Not just silly wordplay. It’s like…us.”

“Pearlll,” Marina whined after a beat. “You can’t just surprise me with sentimentality. I’m dying of anxiety, and now I’m just going to cry in front of everyone.”

Pearl grinned, sitting down in front of Marina. “Well, if the spirit moves you.”

“Ha ha.”

“What’re you thinking?” Pearl asked. “For the song.”

“Well, I have this melody I’ve been working on. You could, I don’t know, say things.”

“Say things,” Pearl repeated. “Okay. Play it for me.”

Marina’s hand fumbled up and down the keys (they were tiny!) but she managed to get out the gist of it.

Pearl’s eyes shined. “Rina! This is incredible, what the hell?”

Marina ducked her head. “Thank you, Pearl.”

“What’s it called? Does it have a name?”

“Uh, it’s in the works…but so far I’ve been calling it Ebb and Flow.”

Pearl repeated her words softly, staring at her dreamily. “It’s perfect.”

She stared at Marina a little longer, lost in thought. Marina fidgeted with one of the octopus’ tentacles, nervous. Pearl rested her hand on Marina’s thigh, dragging her fingertips upwards.

“Um, what…are you doing?” Marina asked.

Pearl said nothing, just continued to draw shapes with her fingers. Marina willed herself to stop thinking about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. It was futile.

“Pearl?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Lost in thought.” Pearl said, but the way she smiled told Marina that it was definitely not an accident.

“...Right,” Marina murmured. She paused. “Are you gonna stop, or…?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Pearl asked.

Marina didn’t respond.

Pearl smirked. “Thought so.”

Marina chewed on her lip, nervous to meet Pearl’s eyes. When she finally did, Pearl was staring at her intently. She looked at her like no one had ever looked at her before. Like she could somehow see right through her. Pearl leaned closer to her, close enough that Marina could slightly feel the warmth of her breathing. Her lips parted on instinct.

The backstage lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a warm glow on both of them. Somewhere beyond the curtain, the crowd was clapping. She supposed the last act just finished, but she couldn’t focus on that. All she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and the millions of thoughts rushing through her brain.

Pearl grinned. “Do I scare you?”

“Well, when you’re doing that,” Marina mumbled.

“That’s good to know,” Pearl said, her voice somehow teasing and soft at the same time.

Then the stage manager popped her head in, her voice sharp. “Off the Hook? You’re up. Let’s move.”

Pearl blinked like she had just woken up from a dream, and promptly scrambled to her feet. She placed her octopus back on her shoulders. “Okay! Showtime!”

Marina stood more slowly, a little dazed. The keytar hung awkwardly across her body, held up by a fraying neon strap.

They walked out under the colored lights, which were rotating lazily in an arc across the small stage. The crowd was composed of mostly bored teenage staff and a handful of twenty-somethings who were buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t exactly a huge crowd, but they were loud and alive with leftover energy from the previous act. Some phones were up, recording, which did absolutely nothing for Marina’s anxiety. A few people in the front were bouncing on their heels like they were ready to either be impressed or to have a good laugh. Either way, it didn’t matter.

Marina’s stomach flipped up and down, but Pearl stepped right up to the mic like she belonged there. Marina looked at her in admiration.

“What’s up!” Pearl shouted into the mic. The speaker connected to it squeaked a little. “We’re Off the Hook!”

There were a few scattered cheers, and someone in the back let out a loud squeak of excitement that gave Marina the tiniest jolt of confidence. She took a breath and tapped a key, testing the tone. It squawked a little, but it was nothing too bad. Pearl threw her a thumbs up.

“We wrote something new,” Pearl said, as if they’d been doing this for years. “This one’s called Ebb and Flow.”

She dismantled the mic from the stand, then stepped back, throwing Marina a grin that read something like ‘hurry up and start!’

Marina took a deep breath and began playing. It wasn’t perfect, not in the slightest. The opening notes were a little shaky, and the keytar was clearly not meant for anyone above the age of six. But then Pearl started singing. Somewhere between rapping, somewhere between singing. Her voice had this rawness that hit somewhere deep. Marina found her rhythm, adjusted the pitch wheel, and slid into it. The keytar was limiting, sure, but the melody held. It actually worked.

They were in sync; Pearl moved like she owned the stage, her octopus bobbing ominously over her head, Marina rooted but somehow radiant, her fingers finding more confidence with every correct note. When it came to the melody, she sang out the notes in harmony with Pearl. By the time they hit the final chorus, the audience was clapping along to the beat.

When the last note died out, there was a heartbeat of silence. And after about a second too long, the audience broke out into applause. Pearl, beaming, grabbed Marina’s hand and raised it above their heads.

“Thank you, thank you!” Pearl beamed like she had just played at the Super Bowl.

Marina gave the crowd a shy smile before mumbling her thanks.

Pearl swung their hands back down, still holding onto Marina’s, and led them both backstage.

“Oh my God, Pearl, we just did that!” Marina shrieked, shaking the hand that was holding onto Pearl’s, and grabbing the other one.

“Marina, you’re actually ridiculous when you play. Like, insanely good. Electric! Holy shit!”

Marina smiled so hard she thought her face might fall off. “Me? Pearl, how the hell did you come up with those lyrics so soon? And they actually fit!”

“We,” Pearl said. “Are fucking geniuses.”

“We’re fucking genuises!” Marina echoed.

"Um, also," Pearl said, a little bashful. "Sorry about earlier."

"Huh?"

"When I was, you know, touching you. I just figured if I gave you something else to worry about, you'd worry less about being on stage."

Marina's mouth opened a little, her brows furrowed. "Oh my cod, Pearl, you're kind of a dick."

Pearl gave an apologetic smile. "My sincerest apologies, Marina."

"A smart dick," Marina said. "Because holy hell, it worked."

Pearl gave Marina a long, exaggerated wink. "I'm great at distracting pretty girls."

"Are you doing it again?"

"If I was, you'd never know."

“Um,” a voice said behind them. They quickly whipped around.

One of the judges was standing there, holding onto her clipboard. “Well, you didn’t win. I’m afraid the twelve year old DJ in the cat ear headphones was a little too impressive. But here's the second place prize.”

She held out what looked like a business card. Pearl let go of one of Marina’s hands and took it.

“The VP at that record label owes me a favor. I think you two could really make it.”

Marina stared at the card like it was radioactive. “Is this…is this real?”

The judge shrugged. “Depends what you do with it.”

Pearl looked down at the card, which read ‘Seashell Records’ and a direct contact. Her hands were shaking a little. She looked up at Marina like she’d just been handed the universe on a platter.

“Holy carp,” Marina whispered. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

The judge nodded before walking back out on stage, calling for the next act.

They simply stared at each other.

“Marina, I don’t know about you…but this is actually all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I thought I was all you’ve ever wanted,” Marina teased.

“Yeah, but I’m greedy,” Pearl said.

Marina laughed, before becoming overly aware that she was still holding hands with Pearl. She stopped, letting go.

“Either way,” Pearl said. “I trust you, Marina. With this. I wouldn’t have even…if I didn’t think you’d be…I don’t know. Perfect.”

Marina’s brain shut off for a second.

She didn’t feel perfect very often. She didn’t even feel good most days. But Pearl made her feel good. Made her feel perfect.

She said nothing, but gave Pearl a smile, which was all she needed to say.

Chapter Text

Marina’s day began with a text.

Pearl (8:57 A.M.): call in sick.

Marina stared at the message while brushing her teeth, her mouth full of foam. It was almost nine, and she wasn’t even scheduled to work until four. Technically, she could still put in a solid day of errands, catch up on editing a new song they’d been working on, maybe even get to recording the vocals.

But she already knew that Pearl wouldn’t accept a no. When Pearl wanted to hang out with Marina, she’d find a way to do it. Even if it meant hanging around the register while Marina was working. Her manager really did not like when Pearl did that. But Pearl was loud and fearless, so he just judged them in silence.

She spat out her toothpaste, rinsed and wiped her mouth, and replied.

Marina (8:58 A.M.): I’m responsible.

Pearl’s reply came less than ten seconds later.

Pearl (8:58 A.M.): ew. meet me at the astor place cube in 30

No explanation, no plan. It was the kind of spontaneity that came with Pearl like an aftershock. Marina was so used to everything being planned, every moment with Pearl felt like she was in a whirlwind. And she loved it. Her life had been somewhat spun on its axis, and she never, ever wanted it to change.

Marina stared at her reflection for a second. Then she turned away, ready to go.

Thirty-seven minutes later, after misplacing a glove, her scarf, and missing her first train, Marina finally jogged up the steps of the subway. Her jacket was half-zipped and her beanie was borderline falling off of her head. Astor Place was sharp with cold, all motion and noise and early sunlight bouncing off of glass.

She was still tugging her jacket sleeve into place when she spotted Pearl leaning against the sculpture like she owned it. Her sunglasses were too big for her face and her iced coffee (if you could call it that) had more whipped cream than coffee. She was annoying a number of tourists, which she did quite often (‘I’m the one who lives here!’ she’d complain).

“You’re late,” Pearl said, pushing off of the cube, walking up to Marina.

“You’re lucky I came at all, Pearl,” Marina said, breathless, but smiling despite herself.

Pearl looked at her, her eyes practically saying, ‘we both knew you were going to come’. And they both did. For all her composure and posturing, Marina was always at Pearl’s beck and call.

“I know you’re going crazy waiting for the appointment, aren’t you, ‘Rina?” Pearl asked.

The appointment being one to discuss the record deal for the band they had quite literally pulled out of thin air. That’s where all bands come from, Marina mused, but it didn’t make the thought seem any more normal. Marina had been hoping, dreaming, borderline begging the universe almost every night since she was sixteen for one thing: to let her make it as an artist. Now here it was, just within reach.

Unless she screwed it up, which was a very real possibility.

Marina ducked her head. “I wouldn’t say going crazy…”

“No,” Pearl sighed, her voice softer. “I am too. And we’ve still got weeks to go. I figured we could use a nice day out, y’know?”

“Oh!” Marina said, genuinely surprised. “That’s sweet, Pearl!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Pearl said, though she was smiling. “I’ve decided we’re going to Coney Island today.”

Marina blinked. “It’s November.”

“So?” Pearl said, linking her arm through Marina’s and walking down to go to the subway. “Fewer tourists.”

“Wind chill and hypothermia.”

Pearl shrugged, dropping down the stairs. “Wear a scarf.”

The Q train was nearly empty, so they sprawled out across one bench. Or more accurately, Pearl spread out across one bench, her head tucked into Marina’s lap, her sunglasses pushed to the top of her head. Pearl talked about nothing quite loudly, causing the few bystanders on the train to glare at them. Pearl often gathered that reaction. She never cared, and this time wasn’t any different. She kept talking, jumping from topic to topic.

Marina had learned to enjoy it. At first, she hadn’t known what to make of her, all sharp wit and casual shrugs, the kind of person who said whatever came to mind without worrying about the fallout. But over time, it grew on her. There was something unexpectedly liberating about being around her, something that tugged at Marina like a magnet. There was something freeing about being around someone who didn’t quite care. She didn’t have to tiptoe, overthink, or smooth the edges of herself. Around Pearl, she could exhale, like she'd been holding her breath for years and only just remembered how to breathe.

Her personality was such a stark contrast to Marina’s. But for some reason, it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt refreshing. Pearl’s presence jump started her in small, invisible ways: her laugh made Marina’s thoughts brighter, her touch left a warmth that lingered, and her impulsivity made Marina feel grounded in a way she didn’t know was possible.

“So, picture this,” Pearl said, waving her hand in the air as if she was painting it. “We get Nathan’s, we ride the Cyclone, scream until our voices crack. We can even record it. How sick would that sound in a song?”

“It’s closed,” Marina said dryly. “The Cyclone isn’t open in the winter.”

Pearl stared up at her. “You can’t let yourself be defeated that easily, ‘Rina. You’re being very December right now.”

Marina laughed. “What does that even mean?”

“Well, you just said the Cyclone is closed in winter. When the Cyclone is closed, I’m closed. I’m nothing without the Cyclone.”

“Right…well, it’s November, and it’s still closed,” Marina responded, looking back down at her.

“But it’s not December,” Pearl replied, grinning. “There’s still time to believe in the magic.”

Marina frowned, confused. “Wait, I thought December was magic. Christmas?”

Pearl scoffed and waved her hand again, but this time like she was brushing away the idea entirely. “Christmas is an overrated holiday. You either get ugly sweaters or ugly socks.”

“I’d take ugly socks over ugly sweaters any day.” Marina said after a moment’s thought. “I can never find a pair when I need them.”

Pearl gaped. “You’re loud and you’re wrong, ‘Rina. At least sweaters are a little bit thoughtful. And you can return the sweater for more money.”

“We both know it’d be sitting in your closet for months. At least you can hide socks under shoes and pants.”

Pearl opened her mouth to respond — no doubt ready with an impassioned counter argument — but the subway jerked slightly and began to slow. The automated voice announced their stop, and before Marina could finish her thought, Pearl was already on her feet.

“Whatever,” Pearl called over her shoulder, dashing out of the doors as soon as they opened. “You're just scared to admit I'm right!”

By the time they made it out of the subway, the sky had turned an overcast gray. The boardwalk was nearly empty, except for a few joggers and a couple of bundled up dog walkers. Wind cut off the ocean and needled straight through Marina’s coat. She shivered, rubbing the sides of her arms for warmth. Pearl, unfazed, kicked off her boots and ran into the sand.

“You’re insane, Pearl! You’re going to catch a cold!” Marina shouted after her.

“Come on!” Pearl yelled, spinning dramatically like she was a heroine in an all but lost indie film. “It’s perfect!”

Marina hesitated on the edge of the wooden slats, watching Pearl’s hair whip around her face, tangled and alive. Her boots stayed on, but she stepped down anyways, crunching slowly through the sand, towards the waterline.

“Your socks are gonna get soggy,” Marina said matter-of-factly.

Pearl flashed her a smile. “Too bad I didn’t get any for Christmas.”

They ended up sitting on the cold, damp sand, watching the waves crash over and over right in front of them. Pearl handed Marina a piece of licorice from her coat pocket. Marina accepted it and ripped off a bite, even though she wasn’t really the biggest fan of licorice.

They didn’t talk for a while. They just sat and listened to the way the water crashed into itself over and over again, highlighted by the occasional screech of a gull, and the distant sounds of the city far behind them.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” Pearl asked.

Marina glanced at her sideways. “Leaving what?”

“I don’t know. The city. Your job. Life. Everything, I guess.”

Marina thought about it. “I…don’t think so, no. I ran away from home when I was sixteen. I love what I’ve built for myself here. I don’t really feel tied down to it, which makes me feel better. Freer. Is that a word?”

“I think so.” Pearl looked at her, tucking her knees underneath her chin. “You ran away? Why?”

Marina sighed, looking back at Pearl. “I suppose it’s why you’d like to leave now.”

Pearl nodded, then looked back out at the ocean, lost in thought.

“We could totally run away together,” Pearl murmured, her voice soft as silk, barely heard over the sound of the ocean.

Marina smiled. “It’d make a great song.”

Pearl laughed, short and sharp, before falling quiet again.

“You always say that,” Pearl said eventually, though not unkindly. “Everything’s a song to you…I guess it’s good we’re bandmates, huh?”

Marina shrugged. “It’s how I process. My feelings don’t make sense until I can sort through them, put a melody to it.”

Pearl nodded, but said nothing, so Marina continued.

“That’s why I’m studying music production. I could’ve chosen to study anything else, something with less risk. But my feelings matter to me.”

“Why’s that?” Pearl asked.

“Why do my feelings matter?” Marina said, laughing lightly.

Pearl nudged her knee. “No, stupid. Of course your feelings matter. But why choose to explore them? Does anything good ever come of that?”

Marina paused, thinking. “If you keep at it long enough.”

Pearl nodded, savoring Marina’s words.

“We could do it together,” Pearl said after a while. “We could quit everything. Go to Spain. Run a vineyard.”

“You look like you’d make great wine,” Marina said, humoring her.

“Oh, I bet I would,” Pearl said, imagining it. “I’ve always wanted to live in a vineyard. The houses are so pretty and full of open air. Maybe I should buy one.”

Marina laughed, the sound piercing through the inauspicious air. “It’s hard to get used to the fact that you’re incredibly rich.”

Pearl shrugged, picking at her fingernails. “I’d trade it all for another life.”

“Then you wouldn’t be here with me,” Marina said, rubbing her shoulder against Pearl’s.

Pearl looked at her for a beat before grinning ruefully. “Yeah, you’re right. I should start counting my blessings.”

“And I’m one of them?” Marina asked, turning toward her.

Pearl looked at Marina for a beat, the noise of the ocean dimming into something distant. Her eyes swept across Marina’s face slowly, looking at her, really looking at her. Her eyes lingered at the corners of Marina’s mouth, the gentle furrow in her brow, the way a strand of hair refused to stay tucked behind her ear.

Her lips morphed into a soft smile as she did so.

“Of course,” Pearl murmured, the words coming out smooth and certain, like they’d been decided long before the question was even asked.

Marina didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. It was all said for her.

Pearl leaned back, her hands digging into the sand, supporting her. “I think I romanticize escape too much. Like it’ll fix something in me.”

It was Marina’s turn to look at her. Several strands of her hair were awry. Her eyeliner was smudged, and her lip ring was incredibly off-center. But Pearl had never looked more beautiful to her. The vulnerability in her face was something Marina very rarely saw, and the fact that she got to see it all felt like a miracle. Like she was being trusted with something sacred.

She felt her breath catch, not because of anything Pearl had said, but simply because she was there. Unguarded, imperfect, and so incredibly present.

“Maybe it’s not about fixing,” Marina reasoned. “Maybe it’s about trying to find a place where everything hurts less.”

Pearl smiled with only half of her mouth, tired in a way that Marina rarely ever saw from her. “That’s why I keep on dragging you out of work?”

“That, and you’re addicted to…um, how do I put it?” Marina paused, squinting, racking her brain for the most precise, least incriminating word. “Adventures.”

Pearl grinned, slow and wide, like she’d just been complimented. She tilted her head, letting her earrings catch the light as she leaned in just slightly, the gesture casual but full of intent.

“I prefer committed,” Pearl said with mock seriousness, tilting her head. “Committed to joy. And whimsy. And surprise.”

She let the silence stretch for a while, then added, more quietly, “And you.”

She said the last part like an afterthought, but with the air that she’d meant to say it the whole time. Marina’s cheeks flushed – not from the cold, not entirely.

She opened her mouth to respond, but Pearl was already back on her feet, brushing the sand from her clothes. “C’mon. There’s a photobooth that still works near the arcade.”

“We’re really leaning into the movie clichés today, aren’t we?” Marina asked, smiling.

“I love stupid movies,” Pearl said, reaching for her hand without asking. Marina didn’t pull away.

They walked back to the boardwalk, fingers loosely intertwined. The wind still bit at their cheeks, sharp and cold enough to remind them it was definitely off-season. The sea still roared in the distance, its waves crashing with insistence. But it felt different. The world had narrowed until it existed only around the space between their joined hands, their matching footsteps, their shared silence.

The photo booth stood like a relic from another decade. It was rusted at the corners, the paint was peeling, and the camera was tilted at a subtle but definite angle. They squeezed inside anyway.

The first strip was an attempt at seriousness. Straight faces, soft eyes, casual poses, like they were both pretending to be portraits in a museum. The second one unraveled into disarray, and by the last picture, Marina was laughing so hard she nearly knocked both of them off of the bench. The third one was a little calmer, Pearl leaning into Marina, holding up a peace sign. Marina brushed a piece of hair out of her face, and the camera caught it – caught the way Pearl looked up at Marina, mouthing a thanks, and the look Marina gave in return. Their smiles were softer, their eyes steadier.

The machine whirred for a good minute before finally printing the photo strips with a loud buzz. They slid out, still warm to the touch, curling slightly at the edges.

Pearl pulled them free with a triumphant little flourish, holding them up like a rare artifact. She studied each strip exaggeratedly, squinting and tilting them in the light. Then, without a word, she peeled one off and handed it to Marina. The ridiculous one, clearly. Only the top half of Marina’s head was in the last frame.

Marina frowned. “Hey! How come I only get one?”

“It’s my incredibly-genius-idea-of-coming-here-in-the-middle-of-November tax,” Pearl said, grinning, words running together. She tucked her photos in her pocket before finishing. “Hang it on your fridge.”

Marina paused, glancing down at the photo.

“I don’t have magnets,” she murmured, almost absently, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She popped off the clear case with practiced ease, slid the photo inside, and clicked it back into place. “This is cuter, anyways.”

Pearl blinked. A flush rose to her cheeks, faint but unmistakable. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the words didn’t quite come. She settled on a smirk, trying to hide how pleased she was. Marina saw right through her, but didn’t say anything.

They wandered for hours, bought hot chocolate that was incredibly sweet (Pearl downed it in five minutes, Marina was still holding onto hers for hours after), and talked about nothing. The kind of nothing that almost meant everything to them. About the band, about songs they should write. About playing sold-out shows in Brazil (Pearl’s idea, clearly).

Sometimes they fell into silence, but it never felt empty. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need filling, that came with that mutual understanding of already knowing what the other is thinking.

By the time they made it back to the train station, the sky had started its slow shift into night, purple and blue scattered over the horizon. The streetlights buzzed on one by one, the small pools of light falling onto the cold pavement.

As they boarded the train, Marina’s phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She pulled it out briefly, her screen lighting up with a message (more like a warning, really) from her manager.

“You good, ‘Rina?” Pearl said, noting the momentary pause Marina made before sitting down.

“Mhm,” she agreed, tucking her phone back into her pocket. Pearl didn’t pry.

Pearl’s head found her shoulder. “Next time, we start a hot dog booth by Madison Square.”

Marina rested her head on top of Pearl’s. “Am I calling out of work for this one, too?”

“Of course,” Pearl said. “That’s when we have the most fun.”

The train rocked gently as it started to move, humming beneath their feet, dimly lit and warm compared to the sharp chill outside. Pearl’s breath was steady against Marina’s shoulder. She smelled like sugar and cold air and something faintly like citrus. Marina closed her eyes for a second, just to hold the moment in place.

Marina shifted slightly, the warmth of Pearl’s face against her jacket strangely grounding. “Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if we’d met somewhere else?”

Pearl’s voice was soft, sleepy. “Like where? A cornfield in Iowa?”

Marina smiled. “I was thinking more like…some small college town. Or high school, or some other…school related thing.”

“I’d still find a way to drag you out of whatever responsible thing you were doing,” Pearl said, smirking. “You’d be color-coding your schedule, and I’d be sneaking out through the window. Or into your window. I just know there’s a window somewhere.”

“We’d meet somewhere in the middle,” Marina said. “Like, I got put in detention because I was tardy too often, and you like…blew up the science lab.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. You’d hate me at first.”

Marina shook her head. “I don’t think I could.”

Pearl laced her hand in Marina’s, squeezing. “Yeah, you’re too smitten with me.”

“Sure…” Marina said, but Pearl was in fact right.

“Maybe in another universe,” Pearl started, clearly excited about her theory, “you’re a cool soldier who escaped from the underground. I’m a super cool rock star. And we still meet and form Off the Hook.”

Marina snorted. “You’d always steal the spotlight.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Pearl said without hesitation. “But you’d write all the best songs, so people would love you more in secret.”

Marina laughed. Pearl followed, the sound bubbling over in Marina’s brain.

“I’m not creative enough to continue coming up with these,” Marina said, confessing it like it was a secret.

“That’s because you live in reality too much. You should try visiting my brain more often.”

Marina tilted her head deeper into Pearl’s, really leaning on her now. “Oh, I’d live there if I could.”

Pearl let out a huff of air, somewhere in between a sigh and a laugh.

The train clattered on. Pearl’s fingers traced idle circles into the back of Marina’s hand, and Marina felt every nerve under her skin respond.

They got off near Marina’s neighborhood, walking slowly through the streets. It was one of those early winter evenings where the cold somehow felt comforting. The lights from the bodegas and apartment windows glowed gold and orange. Marina adored nights like these, the ones where she felt like she was asleep and awake at the same time. Where everything was just perfect enough to be a dream, but with that rush and love for being alive.

When they reached Marina’s building, they paused at the door.

Pearl bounced slightly on the balls of her feet. “I had fun today.”

“You always have fun,” Marina said, pulling out her keys. “It’s your whole thing.”

Pearl grinned. “Yeah, but it means more when it’s with you.”

“Aww, Pearl…” Marina turned slowly, looking at her. “You wanna come up?”

Pearl hesitated, and for the first time that day, she looked a little uncertain.

“Sure,” she said after a beat.

Marina held the door open for her. “After you, then.”

Pearl mumbled her thanks, her usual bravado giving way to something quieter. Marina followed her inside.

Once upstairs, Marina flicked on the lights in her small apartment. Pearl wandered in, looking around.

“I love your place, Marina,” Pearl sighed. “It’s so warm and cozy.”

“Thanks, Pearl,” Marina said, smiling down at her.

“I’ll assume Three did nothing to help you decorate this place?”

Marina laughed. “No, not much. The fairy lights were her idea, though.”

“At least it’s something,” Pearl said.

She kicked off her shoes and tossed her coat over the back of the couch like she belonged there. Marina smiled as Pearl began rummaging through her cabinets.

“We have snacks in that one,” Marina said, pointing.

“Ah, you’re a godsend, ‘Rina,” Pearl said, swiping a pack of Oreo minis.

Marina pulled two mugs from the cupboard, pouring what was left of her hot chocolate into them and putting them in the microwave. It dinged, and Marina pulled them out, handing one to Pearl, who immediately gulped two-thirds of it down.

“Thanks!” Pearl managed through a mouthful of hot chocolate and half-chewed Oreos. Marina nodded, taking a small sip herself.

They stood in the kitchen, sipping their drinks, leaning into the quiet. Until Pearl started ranting about the big boss fight in this new game she’d picked up, making snide remarks about it in between gulps of her drink. Marina just watched her, smiling.

Days like this made her feel like she wasn’t just surviving. Usually, it felt like she was barely keeping up, like everything was moving just a little too fast. There was always something she should be doing, someone she had to impress, a certain way she should be acting.

But not today.

Today she wasn’t worrying, or thinking about her future with bated breath. She felt present, like she was actually living through something for the first time in a while. Because Pearl was here, messy and radiant and hers for the day.

Marina selfishly wanted her for much, much longer.