Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

January 19, 2019  

Catra’s beat-up Subaru groans into life and a grin pulls at their lips as they look into the rearview mirror to see their shit piled up in the backseat: The beat-up guitar Adora bought them for their fourteenth birthday with the money she had gotten from selling the cans Mara left in the back in massive black trash bags and everything they own that could fit in the two suitcases they stole from Weaver. Adora and them are finally doing it. They are finally getting out of this god forsaken town. As Catra drives through the back streets, the golden morning sun shines in their eyes and gives them a sense of pride. The day has finally come. The countless nights planning and saving up money from the shitty jobs they found on the edge of town will finally be worth it. In a few days Adora and Catra will be in a shitty motel in LA, finally able to be together. Just the two of them. No Mara, no Weaver. They can do whatever they want.  

Catra turns onto the skinny gravel road into Adora’s trailer park. The people smoking out front don’t look twice as they roll through. They are always here so no one questions their rusty old car. They park on the road in front of the yellowed trailer, the grass around it is overgrown. A metal dragonfly next to the front door leans to the left, from where Mara had stuck it in the hard ground to give the trailer some “personality.” The broken ancient wind chimes clang in the light breeze.  

Catra pulls their denim jacket closer around them as they make their way up to the front door. They pull open the screen door and knock their knuckles against the aluminum. Silence. None of the scrambling from inside signifying that Adora is home. They worry on their lip and knock again. Nothing. Catra swallows the lump in their throat.  

They sit in the faded blue folding chair out front and pull out their phone. Maybe Adora needed to grab something before they left. That had to be it. Catra shoves their car keys into their pocket and hunche over their phone. They don’t know how long they sit, waiting, adding songs onto the playlist they made for this drive. Every minute that ticks by, their knee bounces faster.  

By the time two hours pass, Catra gets a sinking feeling in their gut. It couldn’t be, could it? Did Adora back out? There’s no way. Adora would never do that to them. Adora is their best friend, so she wouldn’t leave them. Catra sits for fifteen minutes longer before they can’t stop themself. 

They sneak around to the back door that’s never locked. They open it slowly and slide in. The lights are still on, casting a yellow glow on the wood paneling. Beer and liquor bottles are scattered across the floor around the dining room table. The table has its usual stacks of unopened mail and Mara’s countless pills on it. Catra walks past the sagging couch and peeling wallpaper of the living room to Adora’s room. The door is half open, as if she had left in a hurry. The room looks just as it always has, Adora’s floral blue sheets perfectly made, her knickknacks still lining the top of dresser. Tears burn in Catra’s eyes. The suitcase hasn’t even been pulled out. Nothing has been packed.  

Catra’s heart starts to pound in their chest as their eyes dart around the room. There must be an explanation. Adora wouldn’t just leave- they’d been planning this for months. Adora has been nervous for the past two months. Her eyes darting back and forth, anxiously twisting the ring Catra had stolen for her every time they talked about it. Hushing Catra when they spoke too loud about their plan. Catra had attributed it to Mara’s unpredictable nature; who knows what she’d do if she’d gotten wind of their move to LA? Maybe it was something different. Maybe Adora was trying to let Catra down gently.  

Catra needs to get rid of the fucking anxiety. Adora would never leave them. Right? Catra rushes out of Adora’s room to search for any answers they can find. There has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. Their eyes scan the living room only to see Adora’s phone sitting forgotten on the couch. Fuck. Adora never leaves her phone anywhere. The only reason she would leave without her phone would be to avoid someone. She’d done it countless times when she’d sneak through Catra’s window to avoid Mara’s frantic texts when she was having an episode. But Mara isn’t here right now. Catra would know if Mara were here. The only explanation is that she’s avoiding Catra.  

 
Catra feels their breath quicken as they drop onto the couch, head in their hands. Adora did leave them. She never wanted to leave for LA with them. She’s just too much of a people pleaser to tell Catra. Was she ever serious? How many months was she planning this? Did Adora ever even love them? Catra can hear Weaver in their head mocking them for ever getting attached to Adora. Adora doesn’t want them. She never did. Catra was just her plaything. As soon as it got serious, she left. How could Catra be so fucking dumb? 

Catra storms out of the trailer, slamming the door behind them. They bite their bottom lip until blood draws. They can’t cry. They can’t give Adora that power over them. They fling open the door of their car and collapse inside, their head resting on the steering wheel. They don’t need Adora. They don’t need her stupid deep blue eyes, or her annoying laugh, or the soft words whispered late at night. They’re going to go to LA on their own. They’re going to make a life for themself. Adora or not.  

June 23, 2023  

“Rise and shine, bitch!” Catra groans as bright light fills their room. They slam their hand on the bed beside them and feel for their extra pillow, grabbing it when they blindly hit it. Catra presses it to their face, hoping they can fend off the light from their blackout curtains being opened.  

“Fuck off Glitter. It’s not morning,” Catra’s grumbles, their voice muffled by the pillow practically suffocating them. Whatever. It’s better than sunlight. They hear a scoff coming from somewhere in the room. Suddenly, their covers are ripped off, leaving them to shiver in the freezing cold. Bow must have turned up the fucking AC again. Since Bow has started testosterone, he has been running hot and turning down the thermometer. This has started an all-out war between them, as Catra always runs cold (yes, Bow, even with their fur).   

“It’s five pm,” Glimmer corrects as she so graciously rips the pillow from Catra’s face. Catra glares at the sparkly menace before them. They love their friends, but they were up all night with nightmares. It’s a pain in their ass. The only thing that can quiet their mind is writing music. They’re embarrassed to admit that almost every song they write is about their past. Trauma is one hell of a muse. 

Catra sighs dramatically and sits on the edge of their bed. Their feet hit the soft pile of clothes on their floor. They should really do laundry. They grab an oversized red flannel that hits their thighs and sluggishly button a few buttons before giving up. Nothing Bow and Glimmer haven’t seen before.  

“You have a show at the Crimson Waste at seven. I let you sleep in as much as I could because I am your favorite,” Glimmer sing-songs, “Also Bow’s making chicken stir-fry for dinner.”  

“I’m in love with that boy,” Catra says as they stand up to stretch. Glimmer narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. 

“That’s my boyfriend.” 

“And?” Catra asks as they thread their fingers together and stretch their arms upwards, their muscles quiver slightly. They close their eyes and sigh at the feeling. 

Glimmer raises an eyebrow, “You’re a lesbian.” 

Catra opens one blue eye and smirks, “And?” 

“ Ugh ! You’re so infuriating ,” Glimmer huffs and walks away. Catra trails behind her into the living room of their apartment. Between Catra’s love of black and Glimmer’s strange need for everything she owns to be pink or purple (even the waffle maker and her toothbrush- Catra will never understand it), the apartment has turned into an eclectic pastel punk vibe. The walls are painted a soft purple, and the decorations are all black. There’s a sign with “It’s not a whore house, it’s a whore home” written in calligraphy hanging over the comfy gray sectional Bow had gotten from his parents that Catra likes to fling themself on.  

Catra plops themself down on the stool at the island separating the kitchen from the living room. They rest their chin on their hands as they watch Bow stir chicken, broccoli, and peppers in the pan with a pair of hot pink tongs. He’s wearing the apron with “grill daddy” written on it that he had gotten from Catra during last year’s secret Santa. Catra’s mouth waters at the smell. 

“Bow, you’re the only boy I’ll ever love,” Catra declares as they watch him turn off the burner and start portioning out the food onto three plates and put everything on their kitchen table. Catra grabs their circular pill container and frowns at the multiple missed days.  

Fuck.  

They feel anxiety pressing down on their chest. They know they aren’t her. They know the most that is going to happen if they miss their meds for a few days is an increase in nightmares and panic attacks, but their vision still starts to narrow. They can still hear the soft sobs, feel her shaking frame as she hides as far as she can into Catra’s neck. What if they lose control? What if they hurt Bow and Glimmer? What if they’re like— 

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend.” 

Catra looks up from the pill box to see Glimmer playfully glaring at them and Bow looking like he just won the lottery. Catra unclenches their fists to reveal indents from their claws. They’re safe. Catra’s safe. They’re not out of control. Nothing bad is going to happen. They’re just like they always are. The tension seeps out of Catra’s body. They open the ‘Friday’ pill container and shake the two pills out into their hand. They pop them into their mouth, grab their water bottle, take a swig, and swallow. Relief floods their system. They need to fix their sleep schedule if only to make sure they take their meds regularly. 

“Aw! Catra! I love you too, buddy!” Bow coos as Catra slides off the bar stool and into their seat at the table. They take a bite of the stir-fry and sigh at the burst of flavor in their mouth. They don’t know where Bow learnt to cook like this. Catra had to live off instant ramen and flavorless cereal at Weavers, so they never got a chance to learn to cook. Bow has tried to teach them a few recipes, but Bow takes “measuring from the heart” far too seriously for Catra to know what’s going on. 

Glimmer gasps dramatically, “Bow, don’t encourage them.”  

“But they’re so cute!”  

Catra relaxes back into their chair, their tail sways softly behind them as they eat their food and watch their two best friends squabble. They’d never say it out loud, but Bow and Glimmer make them feel safe. They’re stable and kind and they care about her. Even if they can’t read exactly what’s going on in their head from the twitch of an ear, they will do everything they can to build Catra up and take care of them. They can bring them down from a panic attack by just being themselves. 

“Not cute,” Catra corrects around a mouth full of food. Catra from three years ago would have ripped Bow—or anyone really—apart for that comment. But Catra has been through a lot of therapy. They were against it at first but by the time they moved in with Glimmer and Bow their panic attacks were severe and daily. Glimmer had gently persuaded them to go (told them that she’d drag them to therapy by their ears and lock them in the room).  

Catra finishes up their food and heads back to their room to get ready for the gig. It is their usual Friday night show at the Waste. The Crimson Waste is a grungy lesbian dive bar run by an old butch named Huntara. The Best Friend Squad had gone down to the Waste for karaoke night. After a lot of heckling, they sang “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood. Huntara had liked the performance so much that she had offered Catra her seven o’clock slot every Friday night on the spot. It was Catra’s first real gig and first step into the musical world and they loved it. They started with covers and when they had gotten more gigs and started making real money they switched over to original songs. They quickly became a popular local musician.  

They rummage through the pile of clothes on the ground to find a pair of tight black skinny jeans and an old black band tee with the sleeves cut off to reveal a hint of their top surgery scars through the side of the shirt. Catra pulls on the shirt, pants, and their beat-up black cowboy boots. They step in front of the mirror to ruffle their unruly short mane. It’s leaning closer to messy messy than cool messy but it’ll have to do. They smile into the mirror, showing off their sharp fangs. Damn, they look hot.  

Glimmer screams from the living room reminding them of the time. They grab their guitar and amp and rushe out of the room. Time to give a hell of a performance.  

* 

Catra is sweating . Their chest is heaving as they pull the bottom of their shirt up to wipe the sweat from their forehead. They are on their last song of their set. It is the big finale. The crowd has been fantastic, screaming and whooping for every song. Who knew an alternative they/them country singer would be such a hit among the lesbians. Their eyes scan the crowd as they take a swig of their water bottle and set it down beside them. 

“You guys have been an amazing crowd keeping me company for the last three hours,” Catra says into the microphone, strumming a few cords on their guitar, “if you just came in, welcome my name is Catra and for my last song I will be singing you the angriest song in my set—”  

Catra chokes on their words. Leaning against bar is someone they haven’t seen for four years. She’s matured, gotten significantly bulkier, and lost that stupid hair poof but there is no mistaking those blue eyes looking directly at her. It’s Adora. Why the fuck is Adora in LA? A swirling cocktail of panic, anger, and sadness overwhelms them. Catra swallows. They can deal with this later. They have one more song. They can get through this. They just need to send Adora a message. 

“I hope you guys like it,” they finish shakily and start strumming the twangy melody and tapping the beat with their foot. They take a deep breath and find Adora’s eyes in the crowd.  

“We had a plan, move out of this town, baby,” Adora’s eye widen in recognition. Catra smirks at her shock. As she goes through the first verse, memories of that morning flood their brain. The excitement of getting to leave and the confusion, then panic of Adora not being home. Their voice gets progressively angrier as they sing directly to Adora. 
 
 
They let every ounce of anger, betrayal, and heartbreak seep into their voice. The further they get into the song, the more they lose themself in the music until everything else fades out. It’s just them, the melody, and Adora. 

Adora looks at them with a mixture of shock and confusion. Her eyes just as big and just as blue as when she was a scrawny teenager. She has a slicked back ponytail, no pinned back bangs in sight. She is just like Catra remembered and yet nothing like it at all. She is the girl Catra loved more than anything else. The girl that gave up on them. The girl that abandoned them.  

“ I made my way back to LA and that's where you'll be forgotten. In forty years, you'll still be here drunk washed up in Austin ,” Catra sings, their voice soft as they finish the song. They finally tear their eyes away from Adora. They crowd cheers as they quickly sign off for the night. The adrenaline rush leaves panic in its wake. They can’t believe they actually sang that song to Adora. Their heart is pounding. That is all the confrontation that they can handle tonight. Or ever. They feel their breath shortening and a tight coil wrapping around their chest. They swing their guitar around so it's hanging against their back and rush off the stage. 

“Catra!” their ears prick backwards. They’d recognize that voice anywhere. They can’t handle this right now. They are teetering on the edge, their vision is closing in. They push forward against the crowd, but Adora’s heavy footsteps get closer. The employee's entrance is in sight, but they feel a warm firm hand grab their shoulder, “Catra, wait!”   

Catra whips around with a hiss, baring their teeth at Adora. Adora rips her hand away as if she had been burned. Hurt flashes across her face. Catra’s heart has the audacity to have a small pang of guilt. They swallow it down. They need to get out of here. 

“Fuck off, Adora,” They growl, their tail wrapped around their body protectively and ears pinned back. Adora has been reading them like a book based on their body language for years, she should know better than to push them right now. They turn back around and keep pushing through the crowd until they get through the door. Tears are brimming in their eyes and it’s as if no air is getting into their lungs. 

Catra doesn’t know if Adora is purposefully ignoring all their warning signs, or if she’s too panicked to pay attention, but she keeps following, “Catra, please! I need to talk to you! Please—” 

“ No! No,” Catra half screams half sobs.  

They fling the employees only door open, throw themself in, and slam it closed. Glimmer is waiting for them with a towel and another bottle of water. She immediately drops them to run to Catra's side. There are spots in Catra’s vision. They lean back against the door as their panic attack comes in full force. Their body wracks with sobs. They can faintly hear Glimmer trying to get them to do breathing exercises and Adora’s begging coming from the other side of the door. They slide down the door, so they are sitting at the base with their head in their hands. Stupid fucking Adora. 

Chapter Text

“I just fucking hate her! How dare she come into my life like that?” Catra screams, squeezing the blue stress ball with ‘enjoy every moment’ written on it. They are certainly not enjoying this moment.   

Casta, Catra’s therapist, hums and finishes folding the green paper crane she had been making, “let’s take some centering breaths.” She is sitting on a blue yoga ball, framed by the blue and red mandala tapestry hanging behind her. Her long dark hair is twisted into a bun on the top of her head with two long tendrils hanging down. She’s dressed in loose patchwork pants and a tight black tee shirt with a large brown crystal (they think tiger’s eye) necklace hanging low on her chest. Casta has always been an odd one, but she has a way of getting through to Catra that no one else has has. Glimmer called Casta and begged her to see Catra, and she said yes. Sure, it wasn’t the most ethical thing to have your friend’s aunt as your therapist, but Catra wouldn’t have felt safe with a stranger.  

Catra suppresses a growl, “I don’t need centering breaths.” The reason they had brought this up in the first place is because they only have ten minutes left in the session and they didn’t want Casta to make them think logically. They wanted to bitch. They can do the actual therapy next session.  

“Sure, and I don’t need to cleanse my crystals for them to work properly,” Casta scoffs, setting the crane on the windowsill next to the over a dozen origami animals and pulling another square of paper from her desk drawer, this one purple, and starting to fold.  

Catra throws Casta a look, but she’s too focused on the origami frog she’s making to notice. They wouldn’t exactly call that a need.  

“Look, remember our talk about anger being a secondary emotion?” Casta asks. Catra huffs and picks at the red velvet couch they’re sitting on with a claw. Yes, they remember. Catra was reluctant to believe all their anger came from other emotions at first. But once Casta began to help them pick apart the root of their anger they realized it was true. It is easier for them to express anger than hurt. They have spent months trying to identify what emotion they are feeling and learn to communicate it.   

“This anger is coming from somewhere and based on what you have told me about Adora you are hurt. You still care about her.”  

Catra scoffs dramatically and throws the stress ball into the crocheted basket next to the couch a little too hard and crosses their arms, “I do not care about Adora. She abandoned me. I could never care about someone who hurt me like that.” There is no way that Catra cares about Adora. Sure, at one point they were in love with Adora, and they still dream about her on a nightly basis and their heart starts beating faster every time they see a blonde ponytail but that means absolutely nothing. Adora didn’t want them. So, they don’t want her.   

Catra hums contemplatively, “Are you sure about that? Would you really be having these emotions if you-” Nope. Catra doesn’t want to hear this.  

The clock hits the hour mark and Catra jumps up, gathering all their things, “great talk but it looks like our session is over. You have another appointment to get to. I’ll see you next week!”  

“Catra, I have a few minutes-”  

Catra whips open the door to the office and calls behind them, “You’re a busy woman. Wouldn’t want to take up your time. Bye!”  

They rush out of the office chased by a faint “Catra! We haven’t scheduled out!” from Casta’s office. Oops. Well, they can do that next week. If Casta needs to schedule something she’ll call them. Catra walks out of the office to see Bow in the driver’s seat of the beat-up Subaru she’s had since high school. The one they and Adora were gonna- no. They can’t go down that road right now.   

They and Bow share the car because LA is so damn expensive, and their schedules work well together. Bow had to get to and from classes during the day and Catra needed the car for their shows at night. Catra doesn’t know what it will look like now that Bow and Glimmer have graduated. Bow is applying for teaching positions and Glimmer has gotten into her master's program in political science. Catra doesn’t like change, but they know Bow and Glimmer won’t leave them. Still, their chest tightens at the reminder.  

Catra pulls open the passenger door and collapses in the seat. Bow is playing the Mamma Mia soundtrack and humming along. They let out a long groan and Bow looks at them sympathetically. He pats Catra on the head, causing their ears to flatten to their head.   

“Rough appointment, Bud?” he asks as he puts the car in gear and starts driving towards their apartment. He taps to the beat of the song on the steering wheel as he waits patiently for Catra to get their thoughts in order. While Glimmer is pushy and a tad aggressive with her love, Bow is gentle and patient. He lets Catra come to him. It’s what made Catra let the pair in in the first place.   

Catra watches the countless palm trees passing by as their tail thumps against the side of the car. Catra tries to untangle the web of anger, fear, and longing to give Bow a good answer. Casta had wanted Catra to process what happened to them and the emotions surrounding Adora leaving for years, but Catra had avoided it like the plague. If they could only bury it down far enough, they might be able to forget Adora’s ringing laugh and that godforsaken day. They have Bow and Glimmer now, they don’t need Adora. But now she’s here. She’s in the city. How long has she been in LA? Who gave her the right to encroach on Catra’s space. She was supposed to be living her perfect little life in Austin. Why now? Why now when Catra was doing good, great even?   

They don’t know how to translate their thoughts into words. “It’s a lot. I don’t want to deal with this. I thought I’d never see her again,” they try.  

Bow hums in acknowledgement. They sit in silence while The Winner Takes It All plays in the background. After a few minutes Bow replies, “I can’t tell you everything will be okay, but I can tell you that me and Glim love you and will always be your friend. No matter what happens.”   

A soft rumble erupts from their chest. Bow and Glimmer have shown them unending loyalty and support from day one when they saw them in that stupid waiting room.  

Before Weaver had cut off Catra’s insurance, they had decided to get top surgery. Catra was lucky that Weaver’s insurance covered it completely (the plus of being in corporate they suppose).  

The only place that they could find that covered their insurance was a plastic surgeon aimed at middle-aged women getting breast-augmentation. Catra had thought they made a mistake when they walked into the eccentric waiting room. It was themed pink with at least three different animal patterns throughout the room. There were framed pictures of the staff in pleather jumpsuits doing “Charlie’s Angels” poses. Above the front desk was a sign that read: “Your Breast Friend.” The woman who had greeted them could barely move her face with how tight her botox was.  

Catra was terrified as they walked up to the front desk. They used to always be prepared for a fight, more than willing to bring out their claws. But the anxiety that started with Mara had grown exponentially when Adora had abandoned them, spiraling further and further out of control until Catra felt like they had lost a part of themself. Beyond their usual anxiety, this place looked like a hate crime waiting to happen.  

They take a shaky breath and run their claw lightly over their wrist in a soothing motion as they speak to the woman, “Hi my name is Catra Weaver. I am here for an initial appointment with Doctor Senescal for my top surgery.”  

The woman narrowed her beady eyes and leaned in closer to Catra, “you’re here for a top surgery?”   

They sigh and wrap their arms around themself as their ears pin to their head, “a double mastectomy.”   

“Oh okay, I have you checked in Miss Catra.” The woman said with an all too sweet smile.  

Catra bites their tongue. Fuck these visits were going to be awful. They thought since this place does top surgeries they’d be welcoming. Catra turned to the hot pink couches to see a man with deep brown skin, a far-too-short crop top, and kind eyes looking at them with understanding and a short girl with pink and purple hair and body glitter looking like she was about to explode from rage.  

“Hey, you, what are your pronouns?” the girl asked Catra loudly.   

Catra stared at her for a second, taken aback, “Uh, they/them.”  

“That’s what I thought,” she mutters under her breath before storming up to the woman at the front desk, her small fists balled in anger. She slammed her hands down on the counter, causing the woman to jump. Catra watched in shock as the short sparkly pink girl looked at the woman as if she was going to rip her apart.  

“My friend over there’s pronouns are they/them. They are not a miss. Do not misgender them again. I know that Doctor Senescal is a major ally of the LGBTQ community and I’m sure he’d love to hear how you’ve been treating his patients,” the girl growled.   

The woman gulped and nodded, avoiding eye contact with the girl.  

“Great, thank you. Have a good day,” the girl gave her a sinister smile, turned on her heel, and marched back to the seat. She plopped down next to the boy who smiled at her and nudged her shoulder.  

Catra stood in the middle of the room, still reeling from what had just happened. Why would this random girl help them? She doesn’t even know them. Maybe it was some type of boost to her pride. No one would ever just do something like that for someone.  

 Catra was ripped from their thoughts at the sound of the girl’s voice again, “Hey, come sit down,” she and the boy were smiling at her. Catra took a deep breath and sat next to the boy. They grabbed their tail to pet down the length of it like Adora used to do to calm them down.   

“I’m Bow and this is Glimmer,” The man, Bow gestured to him and the sparkly girl, “I am so sorry that happened to you, I had to correct her on my pronouns too. You’d think they’d be better at this sort of thing.”  

Catra shrugged and kept their eyes trained on the movement of their hand on their tail, “It is what it is I guess,” they mumble. They didn’t know how to deal with someone caring. It felt strange. They glanced up at Bow’s eyes and all they found was softness. They felt some of the tension leaving their shoulders. Somehow, they felt as though they could trust him.  

“I call bullshit,” Glimmer growled, “you should be treated with some fucking respect. Anyone can tell you’re queer within a five-mile radius and you said you’re here for top surgery. It is not that fucking hard to understand. I’m going to kill that bitch,” she starts to get up to take another go at the woman, but Bow put a gentle hand on Glimmer’s shoulder to discourage her. 
 

Catra couldn’t help the small smile forming on their face, “Thanks Sparkles, but I don’t have bail money and I’m sure crop top doesn’t either so let’s keep murder to a minimum.”  

Glimmer huffed and sat back down, crossing her arms like a petulant child as if it was unreasonable for Catra to ask her to tone down her homicidal tendencies, “Fine. Next time you can’t stop me though.”  

The trio sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. These idiots were cool. Maybe. Just maybe, Catra could let down their walls, “What is with the decorations in this place?”  

Glimmer snorted.  

“I know right!” Bow stage whispered, “I feel like I’m in some version of hell.”  

“ I know you guys will be. I love you... or whatever,” Catra mumbles into the window. Bow lets out a loud coo. Yeah, these are their stupid friends, and they would do anything for them. They can get through this.  

They are taken out of their thoughts by the buzz of their phone in their back pocket. They adjust themself in the seat to pull out their phone. They wake up the screen to see the notification.  

a.dora.gray. started following you.  

“ Why the fuck is Adora Gray following me on instagram?”  

Chapter Text

Catra glares at Adora’s smiling face mocking them from her profile. Catra scrolls down the profile looking at the posts. Most of them she is with a massive Scorpioni woman and a woman with long purple pigtails and a chaotic glint in her eye. Catra clicks on the most recent post of the three; they are baking. The kitchen is a mess Adora is covered in frosting mid-laugh. Her smile is one that used to be reserved for Catra. Fuck her. Catra checks which account she followed them on. It’s their music account, not their private one. How did she even find their account? They aren’t exactly the first account that pops up when you search ‘Catra’ in the search bar. It’s easier to find than her private account but not by much. She either combed through Instagram to find them or—  

Catra looks up to find Bow staring intensely at the road, his eyes wide as he tries—and fails—to be nonchalant. His grip is tight on the wheel as he bites his lip to stop himself from speaking. Catra doesn’t know how he thinks he isn’t being obvious.  

“Bow,” Catra growls, “what did you do?”  

Bow glances over at Catra, his brown eyes nearly watering at the thought of whatever bullshit he’s about to tell her. He stays quiet for a moment, seemingly debating on how much interrogating he’s about to make Catra do.  

“She just looked so sad!” the words burst out in a rush.  

Catra’s tail lashes against the passenger side door of the car. What the fuck? Bow knows what happened with Adora. He knows what she did and then he goes behind their back and helps her find them without asking. They feel betrayal twisting in their chest. They drop their phone on their lap, so they don’t crack their screen with their claws that refuse to retract.  

“What did you do?” Catra asks slowly, punctuating every word. They feel as though they can’t get enough air into their lungs. They wrap their arms around themself in a hug, focusing on the pinpoints of pressure from the tips of their claws pressing into their skin to ground them.  

Bow lets out a soft whine, “After you went into the staff room, she was begging to talk to you. She just looked so sad and frantic. She said she couldn’t lose you again. So, I told her I’d give her your music account.”  

Catra swears under their breath as they look at the pained look on Bow’s face as he thinks of Adora’s distress. They think back to every friend he’s made and every spider he’s saved. There isn’t a cruel bone in Bow’s body. He wasn’t betraying them. He just has too much goddamn empathy. He’d help anyone. Including Adora. Catra takes a few deep breaths and rolls the tension out of their shoulders.  

“Bow,” their voice is resigned, “you know what she did to me.”  

“I also know what she meant to you,” Bow argues as he pulls into their parking spot. He puts the car in park and rearranges himself in his seat to look Catra in the eye. Catra’s breath catches in their throat and their ears pin back to their head. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it. She’s just following you. The ball is in your court. What’s the worst she can do?”  

*  

The worst thing she can do, it turns out, is show up at Catra’s next gig. They are untangling the knots of cables they refuse to store properly when they catch a glimpse of that stupid blonde ponytail. Their heart stops when they get a proper look. Adora is sitting at the bar with a drink in hand just watching Catra. Like a creep. She looks really good. She has a white tank top on that shows off muscles that weren’t there four years ago with baggy patchwork jeans. She must have seen the post about their gig on Instagram. That is the only way she could have known that Catra is playing tonight. Catra curses Glimmer for insisting they network with social media. Catra immediately drops their cables and beelines to the back of the bar toward the backdoor where Glimmer went to grab their guitar for them. They need to talk to her. Now. In their rush they nearly collide with her. She catches them by the shoulder with the hand that isn’t carrying Catra’s guitar. Her eyes are wide as she takes in Catra’s panic.  

“Where are you going? Your set is about to start.” Glimmer asks.  

“ She’s here,” Catra runs their hair, ruining the carefully curated mess they had sculpted it into. “Glimmer, I need you to use your angry short person energy and make her leave .” Glimmer’s hand flexes on Catra’s shoulder as she stares unimpressed at Catra’s request.  

Catra tries again, “Just yell at her a little bit. Punch her in the gut. Whatever it takes. I can’t have her here.”  

Glimmer tilts her head to the ceiling, seemingly saying a prayer before leveling Catra with a look, “Catra, we can’t kick her out. She’s just sitting there.” Catra glances behind them where Adora is sipping a drink. She is just sitting there. Like a bitch. Why can’t Glimmer use her powers for good? What’s the point in having an angry short friend if they can’t use her to get rid of their kind of ex?  

Catra drags their hands down their face. They really can’t do this. They can’t perform when Adora is staring at them with those stupid blue eyes. All they’ll be able to think about is Adora trying to corner them after a show and talk. Then they’ll have another fucking panic attack. Or worse, as soon as they hear Adora’s voice they’ll break and lose everything they have built for themself.  

“Then I’m not doing the show. Tell them I’m not doing it tonight,” Catra decides. They shrug Glimmer’s hand off their shoulder and step to the side to walk around her. Glimmer moves so she is in front of Catra, blocking their way. Catra glares at Glimmer.  

“Move.” They growl. Glimmer is not phased. She puts her hands on her hips and pushes out her chest.  

“What are you going to do the next show if she shows up? Are you not going to perform then too?” Glimmer asks, her voice a deadly calm.  

Catra didn’t think that far ahead. They don’t know what they would do if Adora kept showing up to their shows. They don’t have time to think about that, they need to leave.  “I’ll figure it out,” they grunt and try get around Glimmer again, but Glimmer blocks them and shoves their guitar into their hands with a little too much force.  

“No, you’re going to get on that stupid sticky-ass stage and play your music like a bad bitch.” Glimmer shoves a finger into their chest.  

“I can’t,” Catra argues, begs as they clutch their guitar to their chest. Glimmer shakes her head and rolls her eyes.  

“Catra, I love you. You are one of my favorite people. But I will kill you if you’re short on rent because of a  girl. Put your big kid pants on and go put on a show.”  

Catra takes a deep breath. Glimmer has a point. Adora means nothing to them. If they don’t do this then she wins. They have built a following, a career from nothing without Adora. They can’t let her take this away from them too. They will get on the stage and show her just how great they’re doing without her.  

Catra sighs, “You’re right. I’m going to get on the stage and kill it. Fuck Adora.” Catra resolves. Glimmer gives an exaggerated gasp and throws her arm around Catra’s shoulder, dragging them down to her miniscule height.  

“Did Catra Clarice D’riluth just tell me , Glimmer Bright, that I am right? This is a momentous occasion! Should I buy champagne? Party Poppers? An ad in the paper?” Glimmer gesticulates wildly as she plans her celebration. Catra rolls their eyes and pushes Glimmer off them.  

“Okay, one: where the fuck did you get Clarice from? You know my middle name. Two: fuck you.” Catra lists as they start to make their way to the stage where they abandoned their cable and amp. Glimmer follows along behind them. They weave through the crowd and climb up on the stage. Catra grabs the cable for their pedal, which is tangled in the one for their amp and their microphone.  

“Your middle name is boring. Clarice sounds better.” Glimmer explains as she watches Catra untangle their cables and plug them into where they need to be, offering no help at all in the matter. Catra holds back a smile at their friends’ antics as they plug in their guitar.  

Catra stands up and slings the guitar strap over their head, “You’re a dick. I need to start so get out of here, Sparkles.” Glimmer does a mock salute and skips off the stage. Catra plays a few experimental chords before facing the audience and looking directly at Adora.  

“What’s up LA, I’m Catra and I’m gonna play some shit for you.”   

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“It’s not a mistake,” Casta corrects as she folds an origami something, lightly bouncing on her yoga ball. Catra throws their head back and groans dramatically. They don’t know what they were thinking when they agreed to get coffee with Adora to talk. Adora isn’t suddenly going to be a different person. She’ll still put Mara first before anything that she wants; including Catra. It’s a horrible idea. Catra will fall into her trap again and then she will leave again. Catra has been and never will be important enough for Adora to stay.  
 

“I’m going to talk to her and she’s going to end up being her stupid perfect self and I am going to be right back where I started,” broken and alone.    

Casta stops mid-folding to look at Catra. Her brown eyes focusing in on Catra’s. Their fur fluffs up as Casta stares deep into Catra’s soul. Casta’s particular brand of “stop the bullshit” look always puts Catra on edge because they know they are about to be absolutely decimated.   
 

“Catra, nothing and no one can take the progress you made away from you. If you don’t want Adora back in your life you don’t have to let her in, but know that if you do decide to let her back in, it won’t change how far you’ve come with your healing.” Casta puts down her origami and takes Catra’s hands in hers. “you will still have the life and the friends you created when it’s over. You deserve closure.”  
 

Catra stares at Casta’s hands gripping theirs. Adora has haunted them for years. Every glimpse of blonde. Every room they’ve scanned to make sure she wasn’t there. The nightmares of their youth spent in hiding. Every moment they’ve spent staring at the constellations wondering if Adora was looking at them too. Catra has spent so many nights watching those blue eyes gaze up at the heavens, whispering “what I’d do to escape to the stars.” Catra can still name every constellation, having learned from the nights where they and Adora would sit in the stained plastic lawn chairs with broken straps.    

Casta was right. Catra needed to know. Catra needed to know if she got her degree in astrology. If she still twisted her rings when she was nervous. If she still had the ring Catra had stolen for her. If Catra meant as much to Adora as Adora meant to them. Adora didn’t want Catra. Not like Catra wanted her. But if Catra could see that they were Adora’s best friend it would... well, Catra doesn’t exactly know what it would do but they want to know.  
 

“Yeah. Closure.”   

*   

Adora is here early. Of course she is. Catra can see her ponytail through the glass doors as they grip the golden handle. It’s longer than it used to be, the silky blonde strands reaching mid-back. Adora would never have her hair that long before, her ponytail only reaching the tops of her shoulders. It was less work—not that Adora had ever put much work into her hair before—Catra would tease her for her three-in-one axe shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Adora would call it efficient. Catra would call it Mara not holding a job for longer than a month.   

Catra pulls the door open, and the concoction of aromas overwhelm their senses. They have gotten better at simply dealing with the strength of scents that just happen when most of the population can’t detect them, but coffee shops are Catra’s own personal sensory hell. Other than the nauseating coffee ground smell, the overlapping sounds of glasses clinking and people talking make it nearly impossible to think. It’s why they wear in-ears during their sets. Why did they choose this again? They look to their left to see Perfuma practically floating, her platinum blonde hair streaming down her back into loose waves, butterfly clips perched throughout. She’s in a pink flowy dress with a green robe hanging loosely around her shoulders. That’s why. Perfuma is part of the larger friend group. She always has chill vibes—Catra would bet money it’s the edibles—and should be able to help Catra calm the hell down. So, Catra asked when her shift at the local coffee shop was so she could be a buffer in case anything when haywire with Adora.   
 

Catra takes a deep breath. They took their meds today so it should be fine . All that’s going to happen is they are going to listen to Adora talk about whatever she’s been doing the last four years. Catra will see she hasn’t changed at all. She’ll see how amazing Catra is doing and cry herself to sleep for ever leaving. It’s a perfect plan. Besides the rolling anxiety settling in their stomach at the thought of talking to her again. It’s fine. Everything is fine.   

They train their eyes back on Adora who is staring at them with her big blue eyes. She is fidgeting with her ring. She looks like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Catra projects all the confidence they don’t have and strides over to the table. As Catra approaches, Adora quickly stands to meet them, and bumps the table with her knee. The coffee Adora obviously doesn’t need sloshes in the mug. Adora’s eyes widen as she grabs the table to steady it. Catra’s lips twitch as they hold back a smile and their anxiety loosens a bit. Same old Adora.  
 

Adora holds her hands out to the table in a ‘stay still’ motion and turns to meet Catra’s eyes. Her flush reaches the hem of her citrus patterned button-up. It’s paired with jean shorts that reach mid-thigh and tennis shoes that are falling apart. She smiles awkwardly and swings her hands back and forth before clasping them together and playing with her ring. Catra’s eyes widen as they recognize the ring. It’s the same ring. The fake pearl has yellowed over time but she’s still wearing it. Catra takes a shaky breath and forces her eyes back to Adora’s face. They will be unpacking that later.   

“Hey,” Adora breathes as she looks Catra up and down. Catra is glad she’s appreciating the effort they went through to look like a bad bitch who doesn’t have crippling anxiety and abandonment issues. They are wearing a black tank top with a jagged edge from hastily cropping it with Glimmer’s hot pink kitchen scissors five minutes before they left, and a pair of baggy green cargo pants belted around their hips.   

“Hey Adora,” Catra responds. They hope Adora can’t hear the waver in their voice. Adora stares at them for a moment, almost in awe, seemingly forgetting how to speak. Catra resists the urge to shift uncomfortably under the gaze. Adora used to look at Catra like this often. Whether it be when Catra would interrupt her and point out the constellations before she could, or when they went on a rant about the feminism in Pride and Prejudice that their high school English teacher simply wouldn’t see. Sometimes it would be when they were laying side by side on Adora’s blue floral duvet whispering about whatever. Adora’s laughter would fade, and she’d look at them with the same awe. It warms them like hot tea on a fall morning, but just like tea, Catra could get burnt. They stamp down the feeling and clear their throat.   

“So...” Catra prompts to distract from the emotions swirling around their head.   

“Pronouns,” Adora says, catching Catra off guard, “you were experimenting with pronouns the last time we talked. What do you use?”    

Catra stares at her for a moment. They didn’t think Adora would have remembered that. They were fully prepared for Adora to misgender them and need to have an awkward ‘not a girl’ conversation with her. They had only mentioned their gender identity once with Adora. It was a few days before Adora left them. Catra had told Adora when she was half asleep that they thought they wanted to use she/they pronouns. It was never brought up again so Catra assumed that she would have forgotten. Apparently not.   

“They/them. You?”   

“Cool, cool,” Adora breathes and smiles tentatively, “she/her for me still. Do you, uh,” she gestures towards the coffee bar, “want a drink? They have really good stuff here. I come here with my friends all the time. One of my roommates’ girlfriend works here. She’s actually working here today I—”  
 

“Adora. Chill,” Catra commands, putting their hand on Adora’s shoulder like they used to do to calm her down. They both freeze and look at Catra’s hand. Catra rips it away and wraps their arms around themself. It was second nature. They hadn’t even thought about it. Adora’s eyes are still on her shoulder. She purses her lips and then looks back up to Catra, that same look as before back. Catra’s tail twitches at the attention.   

“Yeah, let’s get some coffee,” Catra says before promptly turning around and rushing to the counter, leaving Adora to scramble behind them. They stop in front of the bar. The front of the bar is covered with earth tones tiles of all different patterns. The back wall is a chalk wall with the menu written on it loopy handwriting. Pathos plants on floating shelves trail down the wall, framing the menu. A display of vegan cookies sits to the left of the counter with the register on the left. Perfuma looks up from making a drink to see Catra and Adora, who has finally caught up. She raises her eyebrows momentarily at Catra before calling out the name for the drink and floating over to the register.   

“Welcome,” Perfuma says airily, “Catra, I didn’t know you knew Adora,” Catra can see the twinkle in her eye as she looks between Catra and Adora. Catra had warned her that they were meeting up with an old friend that they may or may not need to be prevented from maiming. They’re going to get so much shit the next time the group hangs out.   

“I didn’t know that you knew Adora,” Catra shoots back as their tail whips back and forth. They forgot how much of a little shit Perfuma can be. The corner of Perfuma’s lips ticks upwards. She opens her mouth—probably to roast Catra—when Adora lets out a high-pitched sound.   

“We can all know Adora!” She says, a little panicked, as she looks between Perfuma and Catra. She must think they’re about to fight for her friendship or something equally as dumb.    

Perfuma smiles kindly at Adora, “Of course we can. Catra, what would you like to drink?”   

Catra gets their iced latte, and they head back to the table Adora had picked out. They sit across from each other. Adora wraps her hands around her mug and looks into the dark liquid before making eye contact and absolutely obliterating Catra.   

“I thought about you all the time,” she says casually, as if she’s not upending Catra’s entire worldview, “I thought about how you were. What you were up to. When I saw you at the bar, I didn’t know what to do but I couldn’t lose you again. I know you aren’t... open to talking about what happened but I need you to know I missed you. A lot. I really want to get to know you again. Can we do that?”    

Catra stares at Adora, their heart beating out of their chest. Adora had said it before but she missed them. She really missed them. It’s everything they’ve ever wanted. Adora misses them and they have the perfect opportunity to tell her how amazing they are doing and leave her in the dust. But now that Catra is looking at her with a crooked smile, her blue eyes so open and vulnerable, Catra feels want pull at their chest. As much as they hate to admit it, they want to get to know her again too. They want everything they have been deprived of for years. Adora was their everything. There is no way they can do that again. There is no way that they can talk about what happened without things getting messy. But if they ignore it and start over then maybe, just maybe, they can have Adora in their life again.