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Chapter Text

Blue filled her vision in swirls, sickening and dizzying. Nausea rose in her stomach and throat, clouding her head. Something was fighting against her, an invisible force pressing down on her at all sides, mocking her. It defied the laws of physics with the way it crushed her, but she couldn’t see her attacker, couldn’t see anything, except the swirling blue surrounding her. Marshmallow closed her eyes tightly as the weight pressed against her, choking her, her lungs struggling to expand. Her breath quickened in time with ehr rising panic. A voice in the distance broke through and she opened her eyes again, trying to call for help, looking for the source- her vision filled with green grass and blue skies- oh no - she knew exactly where she was now. In front of her, she watched Bow and Apple swirl with the landscape, foggy and discordant and abstract. She fought against the gravity, pushing up enough to get her feet underneath her, shaking from the exertion. They weren’t facing her, and she needed them, had to reach them somehow. She rose unsteadily, gritting her teeth, head hurting from the sheer stress of it all. She looked up, and Bow and Apple were gone, replaced with a single metal box and Marshmallow choked, knees giving out and landing roughly against the ground again. 

She brought her hands up to her eyes as a loud metallic bang sounded, followed by a deafening animalistic roar, and she flinched, hard . “No- ” she pleaded, “No, no, please, not again- ” But it was in vain. She listened as Bow tore away from her prison, crashing into MePhone 5, and listened as her angry roars descended from the cliff. Marshmallow covered her ears and screamed, curling in on herself and flinching again as Bow landed in the water below, static and screaming filling Marsh’s ears, swallowed by sudden silence. It made Marsh sick and was broken only by her weakly sobbing. Footsteps sounded behind her, and she opened her eyes enough to see Apple moving towards her. The grass beneath her had shifted into the hardwood floor of the mansion, and she was curled on the ground, Apple racing toward her to comfort her. She reached out, but still couldn’t move. She fought against her gravity curse again, trying to hold onto Apple, but she was completely stuck. A dark silhouette moved towards them, and Marsh screamed again, sirens breaking into the room, filling everything with red lights, choking her and worming it’s way into her head disorientingly. She watched in vain as Apple couldn’t notice, too focused on Marsh. She still couldn’t move and her screams were completely drowned out by the siren sounds. MePhone X stepped closer and closer until Marsh shut her eyes, listening as Apple’s body fell to the ground with a dull thud. 

The scene changed to silence yet again, shifting back to the swirling nauseating blue. Marsh was still stuck to the floor, expending everything she could to even breathe as everyone ran ahead, moving quickly, easily, mocking her, leaving her behind. She tried to call out to Apple, Bow, anyone, but her throat was too thick and her lungs too crushed for her to manage anything past a strained squeaking. She struggled harder, trying to stand. Her arms shook, her body growing heavier and heavier the more she fought against it. Glimpses of colors and visions and sound attacked her, beating her with all of her past mistakes, and she choked on a sob as she grit her teeth and struggled, harder and harder, as a red light moved toward her, growing closer and closer as the weight slowly increased. She couldn’t breathe, she could barely see, she was so disoriented and the fear stacked higher and higher until she was so heavy she began to sink into the floor. The line moved closer as she sank, and she screamed, her lungs filling with some type of water and choking her. She flinched as the bar hit her, red filling her vision and then-

–

Her eyes shot open and she gasped for air. The blankets around her were heavy, made doubly so by Apple’s tight grip- what used to be a nightly comfort now feeling like a suffocating chokehold- and Marsh struggled against her captor, hands and breath shaking. She tumbled out of bed, taking most of the blankets with her and wrestling herself free, tripping over herself but too deep into her fear response to notice or care. 

When she had finally kicked off the last of the blankets and her breathing calmed slightly, Marsh sighed, then shuddered, suddenly hit by the cool night air of the mansion. The shock helped bring her back to reality as she regained control of herself. There was a soft sound from the bed as Apple turned over and started reaching out again for Marshmallow. Marsh panicked, inhaling sharply through her nose and frantically reaching for a pillow, fluffing it and tucking it under Apple’s arm. The decoy worked well enough, Apple snuggling into the pillow and hugging it tightly then resuming snoring.

Marsh sighed. She took a moment to regain herself, then, spurred on by another shudder, she tucked the blankets back around Apple, giving her forehead an apologetic kiss before turning and leaving. She couldn't wake Apple- not for this. This problem was so big- so new , even Marsh didn't fully understand what was really wrong. Sure, they had all almost died, but they didn't, so it was fine . They were fine. All except for… but that had been months ago. She had been having nightmares for weeks without Apple or Bow finding out, what with all the distractions of rebuilding the mansion, and she really didn't want them worrying even more. She was happy, they were happy, they were supposed to be free from stress now. Her thoughts followed her as she slowly opened the door and slipped out into the hall. She closed it behind her, instinctively wincing at a creaking that never came, then awkwardly stepped away. Her hand trailed along the doorknob and she rubbed it sadly. It looked the same, it was made out of the same material, almost a one to one perfect replica. But it was heavier, and turned too smoothly, and the surface wasn't scratched like the old one. It didn't matter, but Marsh still choked on a sudden homesickness that almost had her crawling back to cuddle with Apple just for the feeling of familiarity. But she still felt so heavy, too heavy to be trapped in blankets and hugs, and she couldn't bother Apple with this, especially not now that Apple was finally started returning to her old, silly, carefree self again. Marsh let her hand fall and turned away. 

The hallway was dark. Apple had insisted on sleeping with a nightlight, and usually Bow was in their bedroom too, and the combined ambient glow made it quite easy to see. Now, though, it was almost pitch dark, except some slight moonlight that spilled past the windows and into the hall. It reminded her of Mars, cold and lonely, despite the sheer amount of objects in the mansion currently. Marsh shuddered again, focusing for a moment on Apple's soft snoring through the door beside her, listening as she mumbled something in her sleep. Marsh could picture her face, snuggled into a pillow, probably drooling all over it, and she giggled and reveled for a bit in the comfort it brought. The illusion broke quickly after a sudden cold air blew past Marsh. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. The roof still wasn’t complete and a draft blew in, making the hallway even colder than her bedroom. It was fine- Marsh built this place, she knew the mansion like the back of her hand by now! She could navigate the dark hallways with ease. She took a step with shaky confidence, propelling herself forward with a comfort and assurance that could only be fostered by having lived in the same place for months, years even. Sometime after their calendar ran out and forgetting to buy a new one, she had lost count. But they had put the mansion back exactly as it had been before, doorknobs notwithstanding. She mapped her route with confidence- in three steps, there was a small table to the side. It held Dough and Apple’s pottery project- do NOT walk into it. And in four steps beyond that, there was a creaky floorboard to avoid by hugging the wall. In five steps beyond that, there was an access hatch in the ceiling that led to the attic- step around it to avoid the breeze as much as possible. And then it was as easy as moving slightly to the left, trailing her hand along the wall until she met the railing for the stairs, and turning down to the first door on the left, tucked a bit into the corner, to enter the kitchen and complete her ultimate goal: drinking spiked Dr. Fizz until she felt lightheaded and silly, or she passed out at the bar. Apple would be upset probably, but Marsh was being self-centered. Apple would live. They all would. But right now, Marsh was too heavy, really for the first time in her life, and she just needed one night spent delirious and silly and outside of her own head. Maybe she'd track down Bow and they could go stargazing or binge shitty movies. Whatever would get her out of this funk, and clear the weighted fog off her shoulders. 

She stepped through the hall silently. Despite her distracted thoughts, she pushed on, path routed through sheer instinct and muscle memory. She easily avoided the side table. Funny, she couldn’t even see its silhouette when she passed. Marsh shrugged it off, figuring her eyesight must have gotten worse, just another change to stack up to what was becoming an insurmountable list already. A problem she could think about later . She took another step forward. The floor suddenly let out a loud creak below her and she jumped, backing in to the table she had just walked past- she should have just walked past it, who put it here - There was the sound of pottery rattling and Marsh quickly reached out, grabbing the pot before it could smash to the ground. She held it still as she caught her breath, listening as Apple snorted in her sleep loudly from the bedroom door a small distance away. Their bed creaked as Apple rolled over and her snoring resumed, muffled by the distance, and Marsh sighed, relieved. She set the pottery- it was meant to be a vase, she thinks, but it was so abstract she really had no idea- back down safely and backed away from the table, stepping softly to avoid the creaky floor. The creak even sounded different, and it made Marsh’s head spin. She absently rubbed the new sore spot on her back then reached her hand out to trail along the wall, missing that too and catching herself before she could tumble to the ground again. In the darkness suddenly, a gnawing feeling began at the back of Marsh’s mind. She had no idea where she was. This wasn’t her home- not anymore. She had tried so hard to rebuild it perfectly, weeks spent pouring over sketches and measuring and re-measuring, even testing all different types of wood and yet- The darkness became suffocating as her path forward dissolved in her mind and her confidence went with it. She started to breath heavily, shaky, and tried to reach out for an anchor. She stepped to the side, overshooting in her panic and bumping her shoulder into the wall. She leaned on it for several moments as she calmed down. The wallpaper texture was completely different than it used to be, as she trailed her knuckles along it absently, and she shut her eyes tightly to regain her composure. 

As her breathing calmed, she began forming a new plan. The way ahead was different now- of course it was. It had taken so long to even remeasure the floor plan to the mansion, much less build the rest of it back up. It looked similar but it wasn’t the same. Her old home was gone, forever. She swallowed down the sorrow and grit her teeth. She was getting that Dr. Fizz, dammit! She pulled away from the wall, determined, leaving her hand against it so she could follow it to the stair railing. Something she hadn’t needed to do in what felt like a lifetime, but she shook off the alien feeling and resigned herself to old habits. Embarrassment and frustration bit at her from the shadows whenever she bumped into a table that shouldn’t have been there or kicked at something left behind in the hall by the other guests at the mansion, but she pressed on. Cherries could make new masks anyway, if he really hadn’t wanted her to kick one of them clear into the wall he should’ve left it somewhere else. The disarray of her home left an exhausting annoyance in her, but it didn’t matter. She shook the feeling off and kept forward. 

Eventually, she felt the wall stop, the paper being replaced by the wooden rail for the stairs and she heaved a sigh of relief. She had only stubbed her toe or her knee or her arm a few times, and now she was sore and tired, but at least the kitchen was only a few steps away. The moonlight spilled into the open foyer and the kitchen hummed with electricity so this leg of the journey was far easier. Relieved, she took a step down the stairs and- overshot the height slightly and had to catch herself on the railing to prevent her falling down them. She screwed her face up tightly, screaming internally. It was all so frustrating! She was going to scream out loud ! She took a sharp inhale through her nose, reminding herself of Apple sleeping and how embarrassing it would be for everyone to jump awake just to find out it was because she couldn’t manage to walk through a building she had built , and exhaled. The frustration lingered as she took the steps carefully, painfully slowly.

Her feet reached the floor, stumbling from expecting one more stair, and she grumbled. “Finally… ” She whispered into the dead space. She dropped the railing and brushed herself off, her attempt at minimizing the embarrassment from the trek to get here. Luckily, the moonlight glinted off the kitchen door handle and the foyer was a large empty space so there was nothing to trip on or walk into. She grabbed the knob and entered, muscle memory searching for the light switch. She missed the first try and groaned, giving up on it entirely and reaching blindly for the fridge instead, throwing it open and letting its soft light fill the room for her. The fridge blew a puff of cool air on her and she shivered, grabbing as many bottles from the furthest back of the fridge as she could carry. She let the door hang open long enough to find the switch to turn on the ambient lights above the bar counter, placing the bottles on the surface and reaching for the new switch. She flicked it on with a triumphant ‘hmph!’ and flinched against the change in light. There was a hiss from the corner of the room and she jumped, yelping and backing into the fridge. She groaned when her already sore back collided with another corner, and shut the fridge door angrily, turning to look into the corner where the culprit was. 

Knife was floating in the corner of the room, rubbing his eyes, hard. Marsh’s face fell into annoyance and she sat down at the bar, popping open one of the bottles and taking a long drink. Knife grumbled in the corner, and Marsh hummed to herself, turning to watch him struggle. He blinked, dazed, then stared up at the light, eyes significantly narrowed. 

“What was that ?!” He said, loudly. His voice had a wavering echo effect all the other ghosts had. Marsh had found it cute on Bow and Dough, but now it ate at her and made her stomach coil uncomfortably. She took another drink from her soda, letting the bubbles make her stomach feel even worse, before putting it down and rolling it in her hands. 

“Ghost thing,” she said, shrugging one shoulder, “sudden changes in light… hurt. Or something. …Bow isn’t the best at explaining everything.” 

Knife grumbled.

“Great… If you knew this happened, why’d you have to do that anyway?” 

Marsh rolled her eyes. “How was I supposed to know you were in here when you’re skulking around in the corner like that.” She glanced at him, narrowing her eyes, then blinked and turned away again. Probably the one person she had wanted to see the least tonight, and now they were stuck in a room together. She couldn’t go back to bed, not right now, and she doubted Knife would leave without any questions asked. But this was her home! And it was her kitchen and her night of poor coping mechanisms! Stubbornness had her fixed in place. 

“Okay, sure, but this place is always half full of ghosts, isn't it? So why make the lights so bright in the first place? I thought you were the contractor or developer or whatever.” 

Marsh glared at the bottle in her hands. She exhaled sharply and looked away from Knife. “The old lights used to be dimmer. We couldn't find the same bulbs…” she mumbled. Her shoulders slumped as Knife replied with a soft ‘oh…’. Just had to rub in how nothing was the same now, didn’t he? 

Silence hung over them awkwardly and Marshmallow took another drink, chugging the last of the bottle before her thoughts could catch up to her. Knife chuckled and Marsh suddenly didn’t feel as guilty, defensiveness overriding her spiraling. She slammed the bottle back on the counter and angrily opened another. 

“Jeez,” Knife said, “Rough day?” 

“Hah Hah.” Marsh replied dryly before chugging half of the bottle just because she could. 

“Heh… okay but Marsh, really, that's a lot.” 

She lowered the bottle from her mouth, taking in a deep gasp of air and coughing slightly on the taste of the soda, placing it on the counter. She wiped her mouth, eyes narrowing and following Knife as he floated closer. “ Marshmallow ,” she corrected. He nodded. 

“Marshmallow. Sorry. Been hanging out with Bow a lot.” 

Marsh turned back to the counter and lowered her hand. “Of course you have.” She muttered. It was a bit mean, sure, but so was being killed all those times. Saving her life once didn't instantly fix years of torment. Apparently killing him once didn’t either. She shoved the guilt down by drinking a decidedly normal sized amount of Dr. Fizz. Knife reached for the bottle, and Marsh pulled it away instinctively, his hand phasing through the bottom. She rolled her eyes at his impulsiveness. That trait was cute in Apple, but annoying here, and no the hypocrisy wasn't lost on her. She waggled the bottle at him to really shove his stupid incorporeality in his face. 

“What's your problem? Jealous?” She said, raising a brow comically, though her voice was too tired for humor. Knife growled and she almost smirked. 

“No! It's just-” he growled again, unable to find the words. He raised his hand to one of the Dr. Fizz bottles and tried to lift it. His arm shook as he used all his focus to raise it a few centimeters. With a grunt, his concentration broke and the bottle dropped to the counter, rolling off the side and landing with a thud on the floor below. He huffed a frustrated breath and crossed his arms defensively, turning away from the bar. “... Yeah. Maybe I am jealous.” 

Marsh watched him with pity, turning away and hopping off her bar stool to pick up the bottle before he could look back at her. She placed it with the rest then hopped back to her place. Knife had shifted to lean against the counter staring at the wall behind Marsh. The doorway to the kitchen opened to a view of the front door, just slightly obscured, and she figured that's what Knife must've been staring at. Tired of the mansion already, she figured. She picked up her bottle again and took another resigned sip. The heaviness had almost doubled from seeing Knife, so her plan so far was a huge fail. She sighed. 

“You are getting better. With the lifting stuff, y'know. Bow's been here for-” Marsh swallowed. Guilt and alcohol were making her dizzy and she blinked to clear it away. That was an old problem, it's been solved. She shook her head slightly. “She's been here for a while. Had lots of time to practice.” 

Knife hummed. He shifted his arms to hug himself and gripped tightly, digging his nails into his forearm, but Marsh knew the feeling wouldn't amount to much, given what few negative things Bow had told her. She hid a lot, and Marsh knew it must've been to avoid making her feel guiltier than she did already, but Marsh wished she could do anything to help, even if it was just listening to complaining. 

“Who knows,” she said, tone an attempt at light and amicable, “maybe someday you'll even figure out possession.” Her best attempt at sounding comforting but not too much. Knife chuckled anyway. 

“Yeah, ‘cause who needs binge drinking at 3 am when I can just become the drink.” 

“It's what-!” Marsh glanced over at the stove clock to confirm, then ran a hand down her face, flopping onto the counter. It was cool against her forehead, but so was everything in the mansion, and she honestly was running out of energy to care. “Apple's gonna kill me.” 

Knife snorted. “But she wouldn't if it was earlier than that?” 

Marshmallow mumbled something incomprehensibly into the countertop. She lifted her head enough to drink more and Knife's brows furrowed. “Seriously, what's going on Marsh-” she turned to glare at him and he raised his hands, “Mallow! I was gonna say the -mallow!” 

Marsh hummed skeptically, then sighed. “It’s none of your business-”

“Where did you even get these? Have you just been stashing spiked Dr. Fizz for months? There's no way it can taste that good now.” 

“Here, why don't you try some?” Marsh said, chugging the last of the bottle as Knife looked on in discomforting concern, before Marsh turned suddenly and threw the empty glass through his head. He recoiled with a startled grunt, arms reflectively rising to block. He shuddered at the sensation of the bottle passing through him and it shattered loudly against the wall. Marsh cringed at the sound and how it echoed in the kitchen, but it was miraculously quiet enough to not alert Bow. Knife looked over his shoulder to watch the bottle shatter and the glass shards fall to the ground, then turned on Marsh, fists clenched. She rearranged herself to hold the proper air of coolness so he wouldn't notice her wits becoming compromised already. It almost worked beside her slipping on the table and fumbling to regain her balance. Her head was getting foggy, but now anger seeped in between the edges of lightness and weight and it was disorienting, and decidedly not what she had intended for.

“What was that ?!” Knife breathed in a harsh whisper. She made a show of rolling her eyes. “Are you trying to wake the whole house?” 

“It's my house! I lived how I wanted before, and I'm not gonna stop just because I have a few new-” 

Footsteps sounded from the stairs in the foyer, clumsy and tired. It didn't sound like Apple, but nothing sounded right in her stupid house anymore, so Marsh swore under her breath and tried to block the bottles behind her as best as she could anyway, just in case. The steps reached the bottom of the stairs and a silhouette approached the kitchen. Marsh reached over the counter and tried in vain to tuck some of the bottles on a hidden shelf underneath the countertop, the glasses clinking together. Her hands slipped and she dropped another on the floor. It rolled back towards the doorway and Marsh could see a figure lean down to reach it. 

“It's fine, I can-!” She started. Microphone picked up the bottle and rotated it in her hand, Marshmallow exhaling in relief for a moment- Not Apple. Thank God.- before she held out her hand to take the drink back. Mic held it out to her and Marsh grabbed it. She placed it behind her and Mic hummed at the sheer amount of bottles on the counter. 

“You… really thirsty?” she asked. Knife hovered closer. 

“I wish.” He said. Mic turned with a start, letting out a soft ‘eep-!’ and clutched her heart. 

“Jeez-! Didn't expect you to be here… with… aw shoot, am I interrupting something?” 

“No!” Marsh said hurriedly. 

“Yeah,” Knife said, dryly. 

Mic rubbed her eyes. “Wh- whatever, sorry, it's just…” Mic turned to Marsh, face pleading and tired, “You probably already know this, but my hearing is really good, Marsh, like really good, and I really need you to not break stuff loudly right underneath the floor at 3 am, okay? These walls are way thinner than you think and-” 

Offensive. Marsh knew exactly how thin the walls were, thank you very much. Anger subsided underneath guilt though and Marsh scratched her cheek awkwardly, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, Microphone.” 

Knife leaned against the counter again, taking advantage while Marshmallow was still trapped by the expectations of social interaction. “Whatever happened to ‘this is my house, I can do what I want’?” He asked nonchalantly. Marsh jumped, smiling nervously, then reaching to cover Knife’s mouth with her hands, to no avail. “Seemed pretty dead-set.” 

Marsh growled and waved her hands through him, causing him to dissipate slightly before he gathered himself enough to float away. Mic sighed, grabbing one of the bottles off the counter. 

“Yeah, I'm not doing this tonight. Just keep it down, whatever it is, okay? Please?” She walked backwards out of the door, clutching her hands in front of her chest pleadingly, before spinning on her heel and making the trek back upstairs. Marsh sighed, then turned to glare at Knife. He glared at her. 

“Look what you did!” She said, her attempts at whispering failing miserably as her voice rose and quieted beyond her control. 

“What I did? I didn't make you throw a bottle at me! I can't even possess stuff yet, you said that yourself!” Knife whispered back. “I didn't make you throw back two full bottles of hard soda at 3 am either. Why are you even doing this? I mean, I don't know, does Apple know about this?” 

Marsh shifted uncomfortably. “She'll… know in the morning.” 

“Marshmallow…” Knife said. His tone was disgustingly caring and pitiful and it made her anger rise. 

“God, I can take care of myself, Knife! Why do you care about this so much? I'm fine. I'm trying to relax.” She glared at the table, then reached for another soda. The taste was kind of getting to her, but the weight still pressed in around her, like her lungs were becoming too pressurized to breathe, and she needed the lightness of losing control. She was at her wits end and completely lost for options and she hated that Knife could very clearly read her so well. She took a large swallow and felt her head spin slightly and choked on the bad taste of mostly flat cherry cola and alcohol. 

Knife was glaring at her but she didn't want to look at him anymore. It made her sick and confused and she wanted him to be gone, to be alive again. It was her fault this happened to Bow, and consequently her fault with Dough, in a roundabout kind of way she could never talk herself out of. And now Knife, too, she was responsible for killing everyone, and they didn't even care and- a sudden relaxing coolness passed through her head and she blinked. She had started crying, and she took in a shuddering breath. Her lungs inhaled a little easier. 

“Are you?” Knife asked, valiantly ignoring her tears. Marsh blinked, then furiously wiped her eyes, regaining what was left of her dignity to turn to him. 

“Am I what?” She choked out. 

“...Relaxed?” 

Marsh stared at Knife for a moment, then glowered and turned away. He sighed.

“… Look, I know it's not my place, but… you've been working really hard. And don’t try to say that ‘ it’s nothing ’, I've been watching you do it, I have literally nothing else to do now. I know it's been affecting you. And I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but for what it's worth, I do… care .” He stumbled on the tail-end, but Marsh didn’t mention it. Knife swallowed and she heard his throat click, the echoing effect making it sound strange. “I don't want to see you hurt,” he muttered, “not anymore.” He looked back at Marsh. She blinked up at him once, twice, furrowing her brows to focus more intently. He glanced to the side then back to her. “What- what is this, what are you doing?” She turned herself to face him properly and waved her hand through him, shuddering when his cold steel aura chilled her skin. She shook her hand out. He watched her with confusion. “... Hello? Earth to Marshmallow?”

“Sorry, sorry. Thought I was hallucinating.” She took another sip and grimaced, pushing the bottle back a bit. A sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over her and she slumped against her hand, elbow propped on the countertop. She chuckled, then laughed quietly, shaking her head. “I've been so mad at you for so long. So mad for everything… guess I got the last laugh, huh?” 

Knife blinked then rubbed his arm, swallowing again and speaking cautiously. “Yeah you, uh. Got me good. You win.” 

Marsh laughed softly. She sniffed, and suddenly her throat was tight and then she was crying again, face in her hands pathetically. She was so so tired. Knife tried to pat her back and she felt his hands phase through her, and heard him swear to himself when he realized he couldn't touch her. “I'm sorry…” she mumbled quietly. “I didn't want this- you shouldn't have-” 

Knife's hands fluttered around her at a lack of what to do. He threw them to his sides angrily. “Marshmallow, I didn't mean that, I thought you were joking-! I wouldn't have said that if I knew this would happen! Ugh- C’mon, I thought you hated me!” 

Marshmallow sniffled. “I do!” She said between hiccups. 

“Then why are you crying? Be happy I'm dead! You finally got your revenge, congrats!” 

She shook her head. “I didn't want this . You deserve it but I didn't want it! You can't even hold a soda!” 

“Yeah, really rub it in.” Knife said sarcastically, waving his hands and crossing his arms across his chest. His genuine annoyance was enough that a giggle broke between Marsh’s sobbing and she covered her mouth. 

“No, that's good, keep laughing!” Marsh turned to stare at him confused and he back-tracked. “I mean- Just don't be sad, okay? I don't -” he exhaled harshly and rubbed his neck. Marsh rubbed her eyes and sniffled again. “I don't … want you to blame yourself. I chose this. I knew the risks and I wanted to do it anyway, and now you're here, alive, like you should be , and I’m dead. But I'm still here, too. I don't want you losing sleep over my decisions anymore. Seriously, I've tormented you enough…” he turned away sheepishly at the end. Marsh blinked then swallowed, clearing her throat. She wiped her eyes and embarrassment rose along her neck. 

“... Thanks.” She said quietly. “For saving me. The girls would've been really sad.” 

“Don't overthink it. I wanted to, Marshmallow, end of story. I mean it. I'm not that guy anymore.” 

Marsh watched some bubbles rise out of the soda and nodded. “Yeah… I know. I mean, now I know. It's just…” 

“Yeah, yeah. It's different. I get it.” 

Marsh swung her feet, hands absently fidgeting along the countertop, scratching at her legs, doing anything. Her head was starting to lighten up, but now her thoughts raced incomprehensibly. She bit her cheek. She opened her mouth to speak, tone hushed and secretive. “... What’s it like? Being dead, I mean. There's a lot Bow won't tell me, I don't think she wants to upset me…” 

Knife hummed and shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, it sucks. But it's not that bad. I'm adjusting.” 

‘ Way to not answer, ’ she thought. Marshmallow hummed, taking another sip of terrible soda as she thought. “Can you… touch other ghosts? I always wondered, ‘cuz Bow acts like she can shove Dough around so-” 

“Marshmallow, I'm not cuddling with your girlfriend for you.” 

Marshmallow choked and Knife fell over himself laughing as a blush rose to Marsh's face. “I wasn't gonna ask-!” 

“I know, I know! Sorry, old habits. Couldn't help myself.” 

“Hah Hah.” Marsh deadpanned, taking another sip of soda. She shuddered this time and put the bottle down. “Yeah, this isn't working.”

“Obviously. What was even your goal here?” 

Marsh rubbed the glass, running her thumb along the top of the bottle. She licked the drink off her finger then glanced at Knife. She sighed. “You're lucky I'm in an honest mood… I… I had a… bad dream.” 

Knife hummed. “Yeah,” he said, “Figured.” Marsh turned to glare at him, and he raised his hands. “Not like that! Jeez. Bow is bad at hiding stuff, like, I didn’t even have to ask. She watches you sleep, y’know. It’s creepy.” 

Marsh harrumphed. “Well, I think it’s romantic.” 

Knife rolled his eyes. “Whatever… this is supposed to be about your bad dreams not your weird girlfriends.” Marsh growled to herself, reaching for the unfinished soda and taking another sip. Knife watched and rubbed his arm awkwardly. “Soo… what was it about?” 

Marsh took a longer swig. “None of your business.” She said defensively. Knife shook his head incredulously. 

“Of course. And you didn't bother to get Bow or Apple? They seem like they could help with something like that more than-” he waved his hand in a wide gesture. Marsh turned away sheepishly. 

“I didn't wanna wake them… they've been dealing with a lot too, they deserve time to themselves to relax and not have anything to worry about.” 

Knife paused. He took a deep breath, then cautiously said, “You… know you deserve that too, right?”

“I know! I just… Everything is different now, I need something to stay normal. This is the one thing I can control. Or it was until you showed up and ruined my night. So thanks for that.” 

“Okay, pretending that's remotely true. What are you controlling here, exactly? Getting blackout drunk off the world’s shittiest soda so that Apple can find you, what, passed out at the bar drooling all over yourself?” 

Marsh turned to narrow her eyes at him dangerously. “Don't sass me in my own kitchen.”

“My kitchen now too.” Knife said, crossing his arms. He lowered them and floated to sit next to Marsh, meeting her gaze. His eyes were earnest in a way Marsh had never seen before, and it was enough to shut up any retorts she was thinking. “You shouldn't do that to her.” He said, and Marsh knew it was true but hated that he had said it, “and you shouldn't do this to yourself. I mean, come on, I worked hard to save you, that gravity thing of yours is seriously tough. Have a little self-respect.” 

Marsh was silent for a moment, fidgeting with the bottle. The weight on her chest still sat heavily, although she had at least warmed significantly due to the drinks. She rubbed her eyes, and leaned back tiredly. She couldn’t think about the race right now. It was the last thing she wanted to think about. Still, she forced a smirk onto her face. “Can't kill me the old-school way, so now you're gonna lecture me to death, huh?” 

Knife blanched. “Wh- we were having a moment! Are you seriously this-” 

Marsh chuckled. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, raising her hands apologetically, “it's just so weird being therapized by you of all people. Guess you really have changed…” She paused, muttering the last piece to herself, and thinking for a moment. Suddenly, she capped the bottle she hadn't finished, and pushed it away from her, yawning. “Still don't like you though.” 

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.” Knife replied dryly. Marsh smiled, small but genuine. It fell quickly when her exhaustion caught back up to her. Knife sighed and lowered himself to float above the bar stool next to Marsh. He nudged her with his elbow and Marsh let it phase through her shoulder. “You should go back to bed, Marshmallow.” 

She sighed. “I appreciate it, Knife, but I can-” 

“‘Take care of yourself’? “ He asked sarcastically. “‘Cause, no offense, this isn’t exactly what ‘taking care of yourself’ usually means.” 

Marsh grumbled but she couldn’t argue. She stared at the countertop, and the way Knife’s silver glow reflected off the surface. She shook her head slightly. “I know… I just… I can’t go back. Not right now.” 

Knife sighed. Marsh traced shapes into the cool countertop with her finger as he thought. 

“Do you… want me to get Bow?” 

Marsh’s head shot up and she waved her arms to grab him, phasing through and slipping. “No!” she said as she regained her balance. She covered her mouth, not having meant to yell so loudly, and they both paused to glance at the ceiling above them. No footsteps sounded and Marsh sighed. She rubbed her face. “I don’t… want her to see me like this. This was a bad idea.” 

Knife looked Marsh up and down. She shrank back a little and he turned away. “Eh, it isn’t as bad as you think. You look fine to me.” 

She smiled softly, but shook her head. “I’m keeping it together but to be honest I’m so tired and my guts are on fire and I feel like I’m gonna puke.” 

“Okayy-” Knife said, clapping his hands, “please don’t .” He rubbed his neck awkwardly and sighed. “I know,” he started cautiously after a moment of thought, “it probably isn’t your idea of a great time, but. Pickle is probably still up gaming, and Suitcase has been having.. Trouble sleeping too. If you, y’know, need somewhere to go. I don’t think you should stay here.” 

Marsh thought it over, humming. 

“I do like Suitcase…” She said after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah?” Knife asked. “Good luck with that, I don’t think she’s really interested in romance.” 

Marsh rolled her eyes, and waved her hand at Knife. “Not like that ! I mean she’s cool. She seems nice.” 

“She is.” Knife confirmed. 

They sat in silence for a moment, Marshmallow capping and uncapping the bottle in front of her as she thought. She exhaled softly. 

“Okay.” 

Knife turned. “Okay?” He asked. Marsh nodded. 

“You’re right. I don’t wanna stay here. Even your room sounds better right now.” 

“Yeah? I mean- yeah, let’s go. And bring some of those with you, Pickle’ll get jealous.” 

“Right…” Marsh said. She hopped off the bar stool and swayed dangerously for a moment. Her feet hit the ground and the brief sensation of weightlessness in the air calmed her drastically. She took a deep breath, reveling in the way her lungs expanded fully, before hiccuping and rushing the exhale. Sleepy and slow, she grabbed the last two bottles she had left unopened, as well as her third half-empty glass. She flicked the light switch with the head of a bottle and walked, dizzy, towards Knife. He snorted at her unsteady form and she rolled her eyes. “I uh-” She started, leaning heavily on the door frame. “I don’t think I can…” She bit her cheek again. If the mansion had been the same, she would’ve been fine walking on her own, even in a dizzy and compromised state, but with everything just slightly different and wrong , she had no idea how to manage. Knife nodded. 

“Yeah, duh. I’ll show you the way. C’mon.” He slowly floated forward, Marsh following. She dragged the bottles along the floor, holding lightly. They thudded softly up the stairs but Knife didn't mention it. 

The walk down the hallway was tense for her still. Darkness again pressed around her and she took a deep, frightened breath, but Knife was there, glowing in front of her. His ambient aura shined softly against the walls and the glow provided comfort enough that she could take a relaxed breath. They turned to the left, opposite the direction of Marshmallow’s own bedroom. She had given the ghosts the attic, mostly because it was so cold anyone living probably would've gotten sick, but hadn’t designated other rooms. Everyone was free to choose wherever they wanted, but Knife had insisted Pickle have a specific room in the mansion. Seemed he had guessed they'd be staying together, not that Marsh minded. It was good now, though. She really didn't want to bump into Bow in the hallway, especially not in such a poor state, so the further she was from her girls the better, even if the thought made her codependency freak out. The hall was just as full of random junk as before, though neater because OJ had knocked some sense into the residents and Tea Kettle was roomed in this wing of the mansion. Marsh sighed. Knife stopped and she walked through him, pulling back slightly, sheepishly. They stood for a moment in silence, before he cleared his throat and motioned to the door and Marsh blinked. 

“O-oh. Oh, right!” She chuckled awkwardly then knocked softly. She could hear Pickle messing with some kind of controller and a soft voice tell him to pause. She glanced at Knife, then knocked again, and there was a whoosh of blankets being thrown to the floor, soft footsteps running to the door. It swung open slowly, enough for the person inside to peer through. 

“Oh! Marshmallow, hey!” The figure opened the door further, revealing herself to be Suitcase. Pickle, now visible past the frame, leaned back, lowering his headphones and waving. “Is uh… something wrong?” She glanced nervously at Knife then back to Marsh. 

“No,” Marsh said. 

“Yeah,” Knife said. Marsh turned to glare at him again.

“Stop doing that!” 

Knife ignored her, floating past Suitcase. “She's staying with us tonight. Don't worry, she'll pass out in, like, half an hour.” 

“Will not !!” Marsh said over Suitcase's head. She sighed, then held up the bottles in her hand. “I… need somewhere to crash for the night. And I brought a peace offering! I'll be out of your space by 6, promise.” 

“Thanks, but you really didn’t have to- I mean, this is your house.” Suitcase stepped aside, holding the door for Marshmallow. The room was lit by Pickle’s screen and Knife’s ghostly aura, and the soft light was comforting, almost like Marshmallow’s own room. 

Marsh smiled at Suitcase, though her face fell at the reminder of one of her many stacked issues. “ Barely ,” she muttered as she stepped past. 

“What?” Suitcase said. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Marsh replied. She sat on a carpet at the foot of the bed, a hybrid unfolding futon. She raised the two unopened bottles up to Pickle, who smiled and took his headphones off. The room was originally meant to be an office space so it had a desk dedicated to it’s own computer, though Marsh had a suspicion that isn’t why Knife had chosen to put Pickle here. How he had already set up his own games, she would never know. He lifted himself off his chair, stretched, then walked over to take one of the bottles. He aborted the action mid-reach, instead grabbing Marshmallow by her sides and plopping her onto the end of the bed. Suitcase had closed the door and hopped up beside her, and Marsh awkwardly did her best to avoid swaying and falling right on top of her. 

“C’mon dude, Suitcase was right,” Pickle said. Marsh blinked up at him. She hadn’t heard his voice in so long, it was unexpectedly comforting now. Calm and soothing. Deep and kind of rumbling, probably because of just how late it was. “It’s your house, we’re just borrowing it. Make yourself comfortable.” He took one of the drinks from Marsh, then moved to sit back at the desk, though he left his game paused. He flipped the chair around and leaned forward on the back like a dork. Marsh smiled at him awkwardly. She really really didn’t want to keep getting into that right now. 

Suitcase reached for the second bottle, which Marsh held out to her. Knife threw his hands in-between them. “Nope! Not for you.” Suitcase jumped, turning to Knife, confused.

“Why not? If you’re scared the caffeine will keep me up, it’s a bit too late for that.” 

“It’s not that, it’s-” Knife started. 

Suddenly curious, Pickle twisted his bottle open and took a big gulp. His eyes widened and he coughed, interrupting Knife, and laughing. “Oh my God-” He started, grimacing, “This is terrible, Marsh!” She rubbed the back of her neck and blushed. 

“I know, but Cherry Fizz is Bow’s favorite flavor, so-”

“What cherry?” Pickle exclaimed, still laughing. Marsh turned away in mock offense. 

“It’s not that bad! So dramatic.” 

Suitcase reached for the second bottle again, kicking away Knife’s hands. “Come on, if it’s bad I wanna try it!” 

“No! Seriously, Suitcase, you shouldn’t-” She kicked his hands and they dissipated into smoke before reforming again and Knife growled, waving them through her. Suitcase gasped at the sudden chill, and Marshmallow chivalrously waved her hands through Knife again, causing him to dissipate and reform slightly further away. She opened the bottle and handed it to Suitcase. 

“I think she’s allowed.” Marsh said, “My house, my rules.” 

“It’s my house now, too!” Knife said, as Suitcase stuck her tongue out at him in triumph.

Suitcase sniffed the drink cautiously, scrunching her nose at the smell. She took a small sip, and grimaced as she swallowed. She shuddered at the sheer grossness of the taste, then laughed. “Wow, okay, yeah that definitely sucks.” 

“What’d you even put in here?” Pickle asked, holding his drink up and shaking it, as if he’d be able to differentiate. 

Marsh sighed and leaned back on her hand, taking a sip from her own drink. She scrunched her face, then shrugged. “It’s uh… Something Bow did. To be honest, I have no idea.” 

“You have no idea, and you chugged two of them ?” Knife asked. Pickle laughed. 

“You did what ?” He said, “What have you guys been getting up to?”

Marsh thought it over, a mischievous smile and soft blush creeping over her face. “ Well… ” She started, interrupting herself by laughing at the implication as Pickle joined too, Suitcase chuckling beside her. The sound made Marsh smile wider as she realized she never really heard Suitcase laugh before. She decided she liked it. 

“You’re terrible.” Knife said, rolling his eyes. 

“And you’re jealous,” Marsh said, taking a sip from her drink to emphasize her point. 

Suitcase interjected before Knife could start a proper argument. “But, wait, if Bow made these, surely she meant for Apple to have one, too, right? We aren’t stealing her gift, are we?” 

“Yeah, I thought you guys were always together now.” Pickle added. He swirled his glass and smiled nervously. “What’s the matter? Trouble in paradise, huh?” He joked, taking a sip of his drink. 

Marsh shook her head, hard, making herself dizzy. She blinked it away, raising her hands. “No, nothing like that! We’re fine. I mean, we’re amazing. We’re more than amazing, really, we’re- gosh I mean-” Her voice became wistful and affectionate and Knife cleared his throat.

“Okay, okay, we get it. You can spare us the gory details.” He said. 

Marshmallow turned to glare at him, though the (currently very quiet) self-aware part of her was grateful for the interruption. She hadn’t meant to ramble and she really didn’t want to discuss the intimate details of her personal love life with Pickle, someone she had barely talked to even when they had been on the same season ages ago. 

“Well, I think it’s sweet.” Suitcase added. Her voice was genuine and it made Marsh smile softly. “I’m glad things are going well, but uh… If things are so good, why aren’t you with Apple now?” 

Marsh’s smile fell and she huffed, looking away at the floor. Her defensiveness caught up to her and she waved off Suitcase’s question. “Just because we’re together doesn’t mean we have to always be together!” 

“Sure, but-” Suitcase started. 

“Dude, you literally ran away from everyone just so you all could be alone together.” 

Marsh paused, then turned to Pickle, gripping the neck of her bottle dangerously. He raised his hands placatingly, feigning fear, though he dropped the act almost instantly, smirking. “Okay, so we have irrational and violent Marshmallow tonight, good to know.” He said, tone amused and lightheartedly mocking. 

She rolled her eyes, puffing out her chest. “Don’t give me that, I’m stronger than I look!” 

“Yeah, like when you threw a bottle at me and shattered it against the wall.” Knife said. 

Pickle snorted and started laughing, imagining the scene for himself, while Suitcase turned to Knife, brows raised. “What!” She turned to Marsh, “Why’d you do that?” 

Marsh crossed her arms defensively. “He was being stupid.” 

Suitcase smirked. “Oh, okay, so he deserved it then.” 

Marsh snorted then laughed, while Knife gasped, offended. Marsh wrapped her arm around Suitcase, pulling her into her side. “Hey, I like this one. Sure you don’t wanna stick around, Suitcase? We wouldn’t mind having you and God knows we have enough room.” 

Suitcase turned, eyes wide. “I- Are you- really? I wouldn't want to intrude…” 

Marshmallow waved her hand nonchalantly. “No, don’t be ridiculous! We’d love to have you.” 

Suitcase smiled and it made Marsh’s heart skip. She blinked and Suitcase turned away, so Marsh shoved the feeling aside to think about later. “ Well… ” Suitcase started, “It would be quieter here than at the hotel…” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that ,” Marsh mumbled. Suitcase chuckled, and turned back to face Marsh. 

“I’ll think about it,” she said, smiling again, small and genuine. “Maybe ask me again when you’re not about to fall over though.” 

“R- right…” Marshmallow said, removing her hand from Suitcase and trying to sit up straighter. She took a sip from her forgotten drink to work down her embarrassed blushing, thanking her luck for the dim lighting of the room. She was just clingy because she hadn’t had a lot fo spare time alone to spend cuddling Apple, that was all. She turned to Pickle instead. “What about you two?” She asked. Pickle raised his brow, turning his head slightly. 

“What about me too? I like the hotel, thanks.” 

Marsh waved her hand. “No, not that. I mean- Y’know, the whole ‘dating a ghost’ thing. I know it can be kind of an adjustment so-” She was interrupted by a spit take from Pickle, throwing her hands up to block being doused, saving Suitcase but crushing her slightly in the process. “What- What did I say?” 

Knife cleared his throat and scratched his cheek. Marsh turned over, resting her arm on Suitcase again, who was only slightly perturbed at being used as a cushion. “We uh… haven’t really told anyone about that yet.” 

“Oh. Oh! Sorry. Bow said you two had been spending more time together, and you room together, so I just-” 

“It’s fine,” Pickle said. Marsh turned over, pulling herself off Suitcase to sit up properly again. “It’s kind of weird, but, y’know,” He shrugged, sipping his drink. “We didn’t really get to have a lot of time together before the second season started, so. It’s a shame too, I would’ve loved to-” 

“Pickle!” Knife interrupted. He was blushing slightly and it made Marsh giggle. So much for his cool guy persona. He glared at her and she smiled mischievously, turning back to Pickle. 

“You know,” she started, nonchalantly, “If you could find a third , you could always have Knife possess them and-” Knife flew through Marsh, cutting her off. 

“Okay, great, thank you!” He said, floating down next to Pickle. She shuddered at the feeling but recovered enough to stick her tongue out at him. Pickle took another sip of his drink, swirling the bottle for a moment as he thought. 

“I dunno,” he started, “It’s not the worst idea…” He side-eyed Knife, fidgeting with the bottle in his hands. 

“Pickle, no. Who would we even- ugh- no!” 

“She’s the best one at giving us advice, she dates Bow-” 

“We are not talking about this at 3 am.” 

Marsh giggled again, snorting. Knife turned on her, narrowing his eyes. She waved him off. “Sorry, sorry. You’re just so cutesy now! Getting into your little domestic spat. Guess you really are softer” Knife’s face fell into an annoyed and tired glare as Suitcase started laughing in surprise next to Marshmallow, making her smile wider and start laughing along too. Pickle swirled his finger through Knife’s cheek and Knife glared at him, trying to shove his hand away, though it just phased through Pickle’s arm. 

“That’s it,” he said, floating up to Marsh, “You’re going to bed, now .” 

He tried to take her drink out of her hand, phasing through it too and growling in frustration. Marsh still pulled it aside and out of his reach anyway. 

“Noooo,” she whined playfully, “I’m having fun! Besides, if what Bow says is true, you desperately need my help.” 

Suitcase laughed out of surprise again and Pickle chuckled, placing the drink on the desk beside him. He stood up out of his chair and stepped over, raising his hand to rest on Knife’s back. Marsh watched it phase through him a little, the same way hers would phase through Bow. She remembered the weeks of testing and adjusting and the emotional toll it took, and in that moment, decided she would help them, whether Knife wanted it or not. Her determination dipped significantly when Pickle took the bottle out of her hand.  “Knife is right, it’s late,” he said apologetically.  

“You’re only taking his side ‘cuz you date him. Buzzkill,” Marsh said, crossing her arms. Pickle moved back to his seat as Knife smirked at Marsh triumphantly. 

“Bow may be right about us,” Knife said, “but that means she’s right about you too. And she says you need to rest.” 

Marsh rubbed her arm awkwardly, folding in on herself slightly. She tried to think of a good retort, but it was true and she was tired, too much to be able to lie about it convincingly. Suitcase sat up too, turning to Marsh. 

“Have you been having trouble sleeping?” She asked, voice filled with genuine concern. Marsh smiled, though it was slightly strained. 

“Mmm… maybe a little bit,” she said. 

Suitcase sat up straighter. “Marsh! Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Marshmallow shrugged. “It isn’t your problem. And everyone’s been struggling recently, I can deal with it.” 

Suitcase looked suddenly disappointed, and it made Marsh’s heart jump and her eyes widen slightly. She hadn’t expected Suitcase to care that much. Suitcase nudged Marshmallow’s foot with her own, the most comforting gesture she could manage without having to break their eye contact. She narrowed her eyes determinedly. “You’ve done so much for us, letting us all stay here and taking care of us. It’s the least we could do to help you when you need it. We care about you, Marshmallow.” 

Marsh blanched, feeling a blush rise to her face at the genuine kindness. She turned away when it was too kind and too much, hiding her cheek with her hand shyly. “Th- thanks. But really, don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.” She turned back to Suitcase, smiling in an attempt at reassurance. Suitcase smiled back after a moment, then grabbed the bottle she was precariously balancing and hopped off the bed, placing it a bit away on the floor. She kicked a displaced pillow at Marsh, smacking her in the face. Knife laughed, and Marsh glared at him. 

“You will be okay,” Suitcase said, “ if you get some rest. So stop worrying about us, and go to sleep, okay?” 

Marsh hugged the pillow to her chest, looking over it at Suitcase who smiled back reassuringly. Pickle stretched in his chair, saving his game and turning the PC off. Marshmallow blinked at his silhouette in the darkness, illuminated slightly by his proximity to Knife and his glow casting soft light onto him. Pickle yawned. 

“Suitcase has the right idea,” he said, voice straining mid-yawn. He scratched his neck. “Time to turn in.” He walked past, dropping a blanket on Marshmallow’s head as he went. She pushed it off and held it around her shoulders, watching as Pickle and Suitcase started clearing up space on the carpet. She shrank down into the blanket shamefully. 

“You’re not stuck with the floor, are you?” She asked, voice quiet. They both paused, turning to her. Pickle shrugged. 

“I can take it,” Suitcase said, “it’s not as bad as sleeping on the floor during the competition. Besides, the carpet is soft, this isn’t too bad.” 

Marsh hopped down off the bed, shaking her head. “No, no, I can’t ask you to do that-!” She said, swaying dangerously. Suitcase stepped forward, letting Marsh lean on her. 

“Marshmallow, we’re not making you sleep on the floor in your own house,” she said, amusement at the edge of her voice. 

It was cute, but Marshmallow was too distraught to properly react. She shook her head, grip tightening on the pillow. “I can’t ask you to do that for me…” She said softly. Suitcase sighed and opened her mouth to reply, but Knife interrupted. 

“You’re both small enough, just share. Pickle can take the couch in the TV room. Happy?” 

Pickle looked down sadly, with a soft disappointed “Aw…” but Marshmallow was too busy blushing at the mental image of sharing a bed with Suitcase and Suitcase was nodding before Marsh could think of an appropriate excuse. 

“Yeah, that’s true!” She said. She turned to look at Marsh. “That okay with you?”

Marsh had her face obscured by the pillow. With wide eyes, she watched Suitcase, and shifted on her feet but nodded. So long as everyone had a place to sleep, she was satisfied.

Suitcase smiled. “Then it’s settled.” She sighed, relieved. “Thanks, Knife.” 

He waved her off, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. Where would you be without me.” 

“Such a simple solution… Can’t believe I didn’t think of it…” 

Knife shrugged. “Don’t feel too bad. You have to do dorky mortal stuff like sleeping or whatever to think properly.” 

“M-hm.” Suitcase said, skeptically. Pickle opened the door and waved, Knife flying over his shoulder and into the hall. 

“‘Night!” He said, Suitcase and Marsh echoing as Pickle closed the door behind them. They listened as he and Knife moved away from the door, talking to each other in hushed tones, Pickle suddenly laughing and Knife trying in vain to shush him. Marsh chuckled at them. Suitcase tapped her back, having moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“You sure this is okay?” She asked when Marsh spun to look at her. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” 

Marsh climbed up to lay next to her, Suitcase falling backwards to lay down too. Marsh yawned and nodded. “Yeah, it’s alright. Besides, I’m more used to sleeping with someone than without anyway.” 

Suitcase chuckled. “Yeahhhh, I don’t know if it’ll be quite like that.” 

Marsh sat up suddenly, blushing. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-” Suitcase was laughing and she kicked Marsh softly to interrupt her. 

“It’s okay! I know what you meant, I’m just messing with you.” Marshmallow huffed, then crawled past Suitcase to lay closer to the top of the bed, further from the edge. She tucked herself comfortably near the wall, Suitcase following but keeping a friendly distance. Marsh threw the blanket over the both of them and snuggled in. They laid together in the silence for a moment, before Suitcase turned to whisper at her. “I know it’s not my business,” she started, “but… did something happen? Are you and Apple in a fight or something?” 

Marsh swallowed nervously. She turned her back to Suitcase and fidgeted with her hands. 

“No, we aren’t fighting. I just… I don’t want to bother her with this. And I don’t want to wake her up in the middle of the night just because I had a nightmare. It’s dumb anyway.” 

Suitcase hummed. She thought for a moment and Marshmallow could feel the blankets shift as Suitcase moved to a more comfortable position. “I think you should tell her,” she said softly, “she’ll want to help you with this. It’s pretty obvious how much she cares about you.” 

Marsh sniffed thoughtfully. She scratched her cheek and chuckled softly. “Yeah. That’s what Knife said, too…” 

“Sounds about right,” Suitcase said. She paused and silence hung in the air for a moment. Suitcase spoke again, in a softer tone. “It isn’t dumb, either,” Suitcase yawned, voice straining, “nightmares can be rough. And anything that bothers you enough to make you get advice from Knife of all people has to be pretty serious.” 

Marsh paused, then chuckled again softly, turning over to face Suitcase again. She propped herself up on her elbow so they could speak more face to face. She smiled, thought doubted it was easy to tell in the darkness. “You know me pretty well, huh?” Suitcase huffed a silent laugh, and sat up straighter too. 

“No,” she said, genuinely, “But I think I’d like to.” She smiled at Marshmallow, unable to see the other blushing slightly. Suitcase yawned again and the moment broke as she snuggled back under the covers. “Not right now, though. We’ll have lots of time to talk once I move in.” 

Marsh sat up straighter, smiling wider. “You mean it?” She said, excitement breaking through her tiredness slightly. 

“Yeah. It’s nice here. And, to be honest, I don’t think I could stand the hotel.” Suitcase paused, then reached out, kicking Marsh softly. “Now go to bed, it’s late.” 

“Okay, okay.” Marsh snuggled underneath the covers, staring up at the ceiling. There were small glowing stars attached to it that she hadn’t noticed before and they were comforting. She yawned, turning over to lay on her side. “Just so you know,” she whispered, “I was always rooting for you to win.”

Suitcase giggled, before kicking Marsh’s foot again. “ Go to sleep. ”  

Marsh hummed. She closed her eyes, curling up comfortably. Her stomach was still twisting with nerves and alcohol, but her head was clearer, and she did feel lighter. She sighed deeply, relaxed. She could talk to Apple in the morning. She would talk to Apple in the morning, Bow too, but for now she was content. She drifted off into a peaceful sleep, dreaming about warmness and domesticity. 

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