Title is based on the song by Cavetown (linked above). I fr gotta stop taking all my titles from Cavetown lyrics.

BUT YEAH it's 1 in the morning and I just finished writing this. I'm too tired to proofread it, so I'll do it in the morning and hope it sounds fine for now lmao.

Aaanyways. Trigger/content warning for a pretty descriptive meltdown and self harm (nothing too serious, just pulling hair/hitting). This chapter's a little rough but it gets better at the end I swear,,

Enjoy some Marcanne (:

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"Marcy, stop fidgeting. It's disrespectful."

Marcy stilled her hands abruptly, focusing her gaze on the floor rather than her mother's disappointed expression. "I'm sorry, mom", she murmured. The last thing she wanted to do right now was be around her parents. If I can just get through dinner, I can go back to my room and put on my headphones and—

"Eye contact is also a sign of respect. Look at me when I'm talking to you, please", her mother added, interrupting her train of thought. "Never-mind that now, come help me set the table for dinner."

Marcy nodded with an inaudible sigh, being extra cautious as to not anger her parents any further.

She began putting plates on the table, freezing in place when one slipped from her grasp. Immediate panic flooded her brain. There was no use trying to stop it, so she covered her ears, not daring to look at her mom, as the plate shattered into pieces on the wooden floor.

The sound sent waves of pain through Marcy's head. She felt herself slipping into uncontrollable panic, breathing already becoming labored, as if someone were choking her.

Her mom was yelling, she knew her mom was yelling, but she couldn't process the words. It was all so loud. Why was her mom so loud? Couldn't she see how painful it was?

Yelling, there was so much yelling, and the lights were so bright, and suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and—

Marcy screamed.

She didn't mean to, and she instantly regretted it when she looked up at her mother's expression, frozen in both shock and disgust.

Her brain told her to run, and she did.

She ran out of the house as fast as she could, slamming the door behind her, no clear destination in mind. She just knew she had to get out of there, away from the noise, away from the lights, away from all of it.

Marcy didn't mean to, but she found herself standing in front of Anne's house. She hadn't thought through it, really, but she was too exhausted and scared to care. So, she rang the doorbell, struggling to stand. She must have fallen multiple times while running, her legs and arms covered in a display of bruises and scrapes. If anything, though, the pain of it helped.

Marcy wanted to cry— well, cry harder—when Mrs. Boonchuy answered the door rather than Anne, because of course she would, how could Marcy be so stupid? Was she really expecting Anne to be the first one to answer the door?

And she did cry harder, when Mrs. Boonchuy's expression softened and she murmured an "Oh, no, sweetie". She was let inside, still sniffling and pulling at her hair, as Mrs. Boonchuy called Anne down from her room in a hushed, strained tone.

It only made her feel worse. Why did she think this was a good idea, burdening Anne's family so late in the evening?

Nevertheless, Anne still came rushing down the stairs, heart melting when she saw Marcy's crumpled form by the door.

"Marcy! Marcy, hey, breathe-"

Marcy threw her head back against the wall, letting out heaving sobs. Her hands were tangled in her mess of black hair, yanking as hard as she could, desperate for any sense of control. She could feel Anne's hands, trying to pry her hands away from her head, but it burned.

"No! No, no, get away!" Marcy shouted, trying to move herself away from the sting of Anne's hands on hers.

Her head hit the wall again, and it felt so, so relieving. She was finally in control, desperate for the short-lived relief the pain brought.

Her hands were pried from where she was pulling at her hair, and she was pulled away from the wall. Hands came around her waist in a tight hug, and she found relief in the pressure.

Marcy let out choked sobs as Anne held her tightly, whispering a string of soft shushes and 'you're okay's.

Slowly, Marcy's cries faded to hiccups and quiet sniffles, and she finally realized just how exhausted she was. She felt so heavy in Anne's arms, taking another minute to appreciate the comfort before reluctantly pulling away.

And when she did, she found Mrs. Boonchuy waiting with hot chocolate and an armful of blankets.

Marcy and Anne settled themselves on the living room couch with hot chocolate and dozens of blankets, hands intertwined tightly.

"'M sorry", Marcy whispered, snuggling closer with a regretful sigh.

There was a moment of silence before Anne turned her head to stare at her in surprise. "Mars, what? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I mean, all of that. It's so late at night, I really shouldn't have bothered you and your family over some silly meltdown."

Anne shook her head, eyebrows furrowed. "That's nothing to apologize over. You can't control meltdowns, Marcy, and I'm glad you came here instead of anywhere else. You could have gotten seriously hurt or something. Never apologize for coming here for help. Even if I'm not home or something," Anne assured, "my parents are always happy to help. They love you like family, y'know?"

Marcy hid her face in Anne's chest, wiping more tears on her sleeve with a small nod.

"Woah, why're you crying again? Did I say something?" Anne asked nervously.

"I'm just- I'm just really, really happy. I love you, so much", she murmured, giving Anne a shaky smile.

"Oh, Marce. I love you too" she whispered, watching as Marcy's breathing slowed into a steady pattern.

Mr. And Mrs. Boonchuy found the two passed out on the couch the next morning, arms wrapped tightly around one another.

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Is this a vent? Who knows!! Idek tbh.

Kinda not loving being autistic lately bc people are dumb and stupid and dumb 👍

And also sorry for such a long wait for this chapter!! I'm finally back and I'll probably have a more consistent upload schedule from now on ( ' ▽ ' )