Chapter Text
(13 years-old)
Catra isn’t sure what the noise is at first.
One minute her eyes are closed, mind far off wherever minds go when they are asleep, and the next she is justled awake by the loud sound of something outside her window.
Her heart hammers on her chest in a far too familiar way and she grips her bedsheets in a way she has done so many times before that she has by now lost count.
Rapture.
The word comes to her mind, like a can of Sprite that has been shaken to the point of explosion. Bubbling up to the surface, unwelcomed and uninvited.
“Heavenly Father, please forgive me for my sins,” she whispers, words leaving her mouth in an almost rehearsed manner. Words she has said many times before in the disorienting darkness of her room.
“I promise I’ll change, please forgive me.” Tears pool in her eyes, whilst she presses her hands together in the way she has seen her mother do often in Wednesday prayer services.
“Señor Jesús, perdona mis pecados, ayúdame a cambiar, no quiero seguir así.” This prayer makes her throat and eyes ache and overwhelms her.
Five minutes pass and then ten. Repetition is key.
She thinks God won’t forgive her. You must be specific on what your sins are, words she has heard from her pastor time and time again echo in her mind. This makes sense, but she still doesn’t utter them. Instead, she gasps for the air that doesn’t seem to enter her lungs no matter how hard she tries.
Catra’s tears dry foolishly fast when she finishes her prayer. When she realizes that no rapture has occurred, and the world isn’t ending.
Although she had been more than a hundred percent sure it would crumble to the ground only minutes ago.
As she turns on her side, she looks at the room that surrounds her. The Bible she hasn’t touched since the school year has begun, the pile of clothes that fill her desk, the polaroid pictures she took of her summer with Adora’s family.
This is the memory that makes her finally catch her breath. Her sins hadn’t felt as overwhelming in the summer, when they had gone on road trips, and she had gotten dragged around museums while her best friend pretended to understand art.
Adora had bought her a dumb figurine that looked like the Mona Lisa, because it had been the only piece either of them recognized in the gift shop.
Catra curls up on herself, and focuses on these things, on the things that aren’t overwhelming, and eternity driven. She reminds herself the world isn’t ending and, for a moment, believes it.
Closing her eyes she thinks of the beach, of Adora bothering her older sister and of Mara braiding Catra’s curly hair into two braids. She thinks if she had such a cool older sister, she would never fight with her, like Adora seems so keen on doing.
Adora always said they were like sisters; they had grown up together. But Catra, after turning thirteen this year, knew Adora didn’t really treat her like a sister. Adora treats her like a friend, a best friend. Catra likes that. The fact of the matter is, Catra doesn’t want to be Adora’s sister.
Suddenly the thought of a rapture, of an apocalypse and of everything else that scares Catra and keeps her up at night, doesn’t feel as scary.
It isn’t as though the thought has completely dispersed. But she’s able to push it out of her mind for a minute. Which feels like finally being able to breathe when your head has been submerged under water for far too long.
She closes her eyes and tries to force herself to fall asleep. With the fear of imminent eternal condemnation at bay, she is somehow able to fall into a dreamless sleep until morning.
(13 years-old)
Adora is thirteen years old today. She looks at herself in the mirror, at her stringy blond hair, at her pudgy cheeks and her ears poking out from under her hair and repeats this to herself a few times.
She looks at herself in the mirror for a long time, but doesn’t see any meaningful changes, which is disappointing but not surprising.
Catra turned thirteen and her mom had bought her a training bra and allowed her to shave her legs and underarms. Adora has been doing all those things since she was eleven. Mara had told Adora in private that Catra’s mother was just a lot stricter than most. Adora could guess their moms didn’t get along because of it.
Adora thinks Catra’s thirteen birthday traditions were still fun, because then she got to be the one to teach her how to do things. Adora was always the one getting helped with homework, but that time it had been her area of expertise. She had shown Catra how to shave without nicking herself, and how you should always put lotion after.
Catra had looked excited about it all, not even acting annoyed like she did whenever Adora knew something she didn’t. She had asked her questions and quietly, when she thought Adora wasn’t listening, thanked her.
Adora grabs the lip-gloss her mom gave her in the morning and puts it on, because now she is thirteen, basically a grown up.
She stares a little longer at her reflection, fully aware of the fact Catra will probably show up any minute now, she’ll come barging in and will sit on the toilet while Adora tries to put on eyeshadow like all those videos she has seen for weeks in preparation for today.
Adora half hopes Catra points out her lip gloss, that she tells her she looks different, pretty. But she knows this won’t happen, Catra isn’t really the complimenting type. She’s a lot more the “teasing Adora until her face is beet-red” type.
Catra shows up while she is still putting eyeshadow on, and hugs her, like she always does. She discreetly places a gift box inside her hoodie’s pocket when she isn’t paying attention. Adora is perched on the bathroom sink. She looks silly, nothing like the Youtuber she had been watching looked when they finished. She looks childish.
She scrubs the makeup off with water and soap, because Catra is here, and any minute now she’ll say she looks silly. She scrubs until her eyelids and cheeks are red.
Catra hands her a towel, pretending nothing has happened, even though anyone a mile away can see Adora’s red cheeks and eyes.
“You look pretty without all that junk anyways” Catra says and suddenly makeup seems like something only kids like, because Catra is the most mature thirteen-year-old Adora has ever met. Adora puts the lip-gloss back on and hand in hand they walk out of the bathroom.
The birthday party isn’t much of a party, because Adora’s mom left Mara in charge. She was only allowed to bring Catra, but that didn’t really matter because Adora only cared about Catra being there anyways. Catra’s mom, who was always so strict and always came up with excuses as to why Catra couldn’t stay the night, had been moved by Adora’s request to have her best friend spend the night for her birthday.
Catra’s duffel bag lays in the living room and Mara is preparing spaghetti, Adora’s favorite. Adora thinks this is the best birthday.
She settles down on the couch with Catra and they play Mario Kart on Adora's DS until Mara tells Adora to get hers from her room so they can play multiplayer. Catra seems embarrassed at this but the look washes away from her face so quickly Adora doesn’t even notice, too distracted going to her sister’s room to retrieve the game console.
Adora realizes while setting up the game, days like these would be her ideal future.
She thinks living with her best friend and playing video games after work sounds like a dream. Maybe Catra could be her roommate when they enter university, because of course they will study in the same university. Catra will study something like art, because her paintings are the best in the whole art class. Adora will study music, because no matter how hard she studies in all the other subjects, English is her best one. She’s good at writing poems, Catra had said so.
The afternoon goes by quickly and soon enough, the lip-gloss Adora had ardently put on with as much care and precision as she could muster wears off.
She doesn’t mind though, because Catra is shoving her on the couch and attempting to cheat her way into winning the race and lip-gloss seems like the least of her worries when she is having this much fun.
When dinner is ready Mara ushers them into the dining room. Dinner is quiet, mainly because Catra has been taught to never talk while eating, because it’s bad manners. Mara has pinched Adora enough times under the table to understand that maybe she should follow said etiquette too. Even though she really wants to tell Catra how her dad bought marshmallows and that they are going to set up a small campfire in their backyard after dinner.
She pushes through and eats two plates full of spaghetti, while Catra plays with her food and only eats half before saying she is already full.
Adora thinks Catra and her are so different that it only makes sense for them to be soulmates. This is something she has been aware of since they were seven, Catra and her are bound to be best friends forever.
After eating cake Catra pulls Adora to her room and sits her down on the bed, patting her hoodie pockets and pulling out the gift that's been resting against her stomach all afternoon, the one Adora hasn’t dared to pull out throughout the day.
Catra grins so big, mischievous, and filled with excitement, Adora has to force herself to not stare. Catra has always been pretty but today she looks amazing, in clothes that don’t even resemble herself, a dress that's so pink and flowy she looks like a flower.
Adora thinks Catra is somehow able to look beautiful even when she doesn’t look like herself but she holds herself back from saying it, because she is Catra’s best friend.
Adora opens the gift box carefully, Catra’s eyes shining, as she sits expectantly next to her.
A pendant of a sword falls into her hand as she opens the box and Adora is so happy she doesn’t stop the smile from appearing in her face. Of course, Catra would give her the best gift ever. The necklace isn’t expensive, Adora knows this, but she thinks it's her most prized possession now.
“Do you like it?” Catra’s tone is shy (although she tries playing it off, Adora knows her best). Adora nods, enthusiasm clear as she gives the necklace to Catra and pulls her hair up for her to put it on.
Catra carefully places the necklace on her, cold fingertips brushing against Adora’s neck. Adora isn’t really sure why her face feels so hot, or why her heart sputters in her chest, but she doesn’t mind it.
She plays with the sword and grins. “Now I feel bad, your birthday gift wasn’t half as good.” Adora says softly, turning toward Catra, hoping her red cheeks aren’t noticeable in her dimly lit room. For once she’s glad to have forgotten to turn on the light when entering her bedroom.
Catra gently shoves her, “Don’t be dumb, that poem was the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” Adora is sure this is true, not because of the quality of her writing but because Catra’s mom doesn’t seem like the type of person to think of her daughter’s interests when getting her a gift.
Adora abruptly hugs Catra, causing her to flinch before wrapping her arms around her, using her shoulder as a headrest.
“I’m not being nice because I like you, it’s only because it's your birthday and I don't want to be a big jerk.” Catra grins when Adora gently shoves her off and tickles her sides in response.
Adora thinks Catra’s words bring her an irregular amount of happiness, because saying she doesn’t like her is basically confessing how much she loves her.
Soon enough the inevitable happens, a tickle fight filled with laughter and screams emitting from both of them. Eventually Catra overpowers Adora as they continue their tickle fight and sits on top of her stomach in order to gain full advantage on her attacker.
“Do you give up?” Catra says, pressing Adora’s arms down against the mattress while she catches her breath. Catra’s curls fall on her face, her cheeks flushed, eyes wet from all the laughter. She looks like a mess. But still Adora’s stomach does backflips as she stares up at her.
For a second Adora forgets the fact Catra has just asked her a question, she tries to remember what it is. Catra’s mismatched eyes make it difficult to focus on what exactly she just said.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” And just as suddenly as her body’s weight had rested on Adora, it disappears. Adora is sure she sees a red tint on her brown skin, but Catra moves too quickly for her to fully examine her face.
Adora sits up, attempting to calm her drumming heartbeat.
Catra is complicated, sometimes Adora wonders how someone so perfect is her friend. She thinks her brain is playing tricks on her, because she shouldn’t be allowed to call Catra her friend let alone her best friend, but here they are.
Just as Adora is about to speak, to clear up the air from the awkward silence that has filled it, she hears a car pull up in the driveway.
“That’s Mom!” Adora grabs Catra’s hand and pulls them toward the front door. Her mom is pulling the door open when they arrive, grocery bags in hand.
“Dora sweetheart, can you lend me a hand?” Adora’s mother hands her a grocery bag before she is even able to agree. Catra grins, because Adora’s mom never makes her do any work no matter how long they have been friends (Adora silently wonders if she fears Catra’s mother will refuse to let her come back if she does).
Catra takes one of the grocery bags from Adora’s hands and begins walking to the kitchen, where Mara seems preoccupied doing the dishes.
After leaving the groceries on the table, Adora’s mother tells them to go set up in the backyard, because her dad will be held back at work, they’ll get the s'mores ready without him.
Adora wants to state the fact her father seems to be working an awful lot lately, even on her birthday. But she doesn’t because she is now thirteen and it seems like a childish thing to complain about, especially in the presence of Catra, who hasn’t seen her dad since she was five.
Catra doesn’t seem to notice any of this, as she stands by Mara and helps her dry the dishes.
“We can wait a little longer.” Adora says softly instead of the real words that dance at the tip of her tongue and tempt her to be as childish and petty as she wants to be.
“No, he’ll be home late. Don’t worry too much.” Her mom brushes Adora’s blond hair out of her eyes, running her fingers through her hair in hopes of appeasing her daughter.
Catra had once asked her why she didn’t look like her family, it had been back when they were younger, back when these sorts of questions weren’t considered rude or of ill taste. Adora answered truthfully, it had never been a secret, and even if it had been it never would have been a secret kept from Catra.
Adora told her the things her parents had told her since she could hardly remember.
Mara’s mother had been friends with her biological mom and when she found out she couldn’t take care of her, Mara's parents had made the decision to adopt Adora.
Adora only remembers traces of her mother, the fact her hair was blonde, her hugs were warm and that she would help her build sandcastles when they went to the beach. All these things aren’t really memories, they’re more similar to stories, things Adora knows are true, not because of her own experience, but rather because of old pictures found in the attic and her mother’s retellings.
Adora had never considered her biological mother a mom, instead she was like a family friend or a distant relative. Someone she knows nothing about but sees on occasional holidays.
“I’ll go make the campfire if you put what's left away in the fridge?” her mom asks, negotiations Adora knows well enough by now. She nods her head, walking to the fridge and beginning to do as she is told while her mother wanders off to the backyard.
By now Catra and Mara are done washing dishes and Mara has gone out along with her mom in hopes of helping set up the table and chairs for the four of them.
“Your family is so cool.” Catra says, picking up a bag of lettuce and handing it off to Adora.
“Maybe we could adopt you.” Adora chimes playfully, throwing a grin Catra’s way that causes her to laugh.
“I think my mom might not love that idea.” A ravioli can is passed over. “Mom is already on edge over the fact that I spend more time here than at home.” This comment shouldn’t come as a surprise to Adora, because everyday after class Mara drives them here to study. Adora can count on one hand how many times she has seen the inside of Catra’s house.
Still Catra’s mom is a mystery, at times Adora wonders if she is actually glad her daughter is away most of the time. Since every time she’s there the only thing she does is argue with her. Adora reminds herself that basically-teenagers don’t really judge their friend’s family dynamics, but that doesn’t stop the frown from forming on her lips despite herself.
Once they finish putting the groceries away they walk to the backyard, where her mother and Mara are busy working on the campfire and s’mores.
Things are peaceful as they sit together in the patio chairs and watch the fire. Her mother tells Catra embarrassing stories of their childhood, ones neither one of them remember, and like this the night passes, until they are so full of s’mores they can’t fit another marshmallow in their bodies.
When the clock strikes midnight Adora’s mother calls it a night, sending them inside to shower and sleep.
Adora ignores the absence of her father and if Catra realizes something is off she doesn’t mention it. Instead running into the bathroom before Adora can take the first turn in the shower.
The campfire and s’mores had taken Adora’s mind off of a lot of things, but one thing seems to stick like the marshmallow on the tips of her fingers, no matter how hard she tries to focus on other things: Catra is beautiful.
This had always seemed like the friendliest statement a person could hold about their best friends. Because, really, who thought their friends were ugly? That just seemed rude.
Today is different though, today it feels like she has just run into the solution to a very complicated math formula, one she has studied and studied for months and suddenly she looks at her notes and realizes the answer has always been there.
Adora had never wondered why her hands don’t get clammy and sweaty when holding Lonnie’s, or how no matter how funny the joke he makes is, Rogelio's comments never make her blush and snort from laughing too hard.
She lays down beside Catra in bed, trying not to stare at the girl with freckled and furrowed eyebrows, braiding her hair in preparation for bed.
“Today was fun.” Catra states, sighing wistfully as she lays on her back. Adora’s twin sized bed has never seemed so small, with her best friend’s warmth spreading to her side.
“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Adora says, because it's the truth and there’s never been a need for lies or secrets between them. Except maybe now.
Catra shifts, laying on her side to look at Adora, and although the room is so dark that only her shadow can be seen, Adora turns to face her as well. “That means next year has to be even better.” Catra says, like it’s a well-known fact Adora has never heard of.
Adora wonders how she could have ever missed it.
It’s obvious in hindsight how the littlest things add up to make up the biggest thing she’s ever experienced.
Loving Catra is simple, it’s not difficult like a math equation after all. It’s the way she crinkles her nose when she is about to lose a game, or the way she always knows exactly how to solve the math problem that’s impossible for Adora to figure out. It’s how she can always win in tickle fights, the way she looks with her hair down.
Catra, while Adora had been evaluating everything that makes her perfect, has already drifted off to sleep.
While Adora listens to her best friend’s breath even out beside her, she realizes it all makes sense, loving Catra is the easiest thing Adora has ever done.
(21 years old)
The worst thing about memories is the fact that you can’t really control when they show up. Or when your mind decides to shove them out of the tightly closed filing cabinet you have kept them in for years.
It happens when Adora is drunk, or as Glimmer would describe it, wasted.
She is dancing with Glimmer, pulling her around the club’s dance floor as the music drums all around her.
Everyone is covered in glitter and sweat. Because this is in fact the theme Glimmer has decided on for her 21st birthday. Glitter.
Adora, has been, in all honesty, having the time of her life. She has had four drinks and crossed the thin line that divides drunk Adora from wasted Adora.
She tells herself that this is a celebration, that she is allowed to get black-out drunk, because her best friend in the world is 21 and Bow got hired on his dream job and this morning Adora didn’t burn her bacon.
The last part might seem like the least convincing reason to celebrate but Glimmer had really tried to make her feel included in their celebration and her unburnt bacon has been Adora’s biggest accomplishment in the past month.
Although her success in the cooking department makes her reason for celebration dull in comparison to her friends’, Adora doesn't mind. Or at least she can no longer mind. Because the buzz of alcohol has made the bitterness in the pit of her stomach disappear after only two drinks. Bow would have called her a lightweight if he had been in better shape.
“I love this song!” She screams over the loud music, she’s unsure if Glimmer hears her but the shorter girl laughs and pulls on her hands in what Adora assumes is supposed to be some type of dance, their bodies swaying to no particular rhythm.
This is fun, her hair is sticking to her face, the glitter she used for her makeup is making her face itch and the stench of sweat fills her nose no matter where she goes, but she is having fun.
The crowd of people seem to buzz around her, neon lights making her tired eyes ache as she tries adjusting them to the constant change of colors.
Glimmer seems ecstatic, Adora wonders if this is the first birthday she has ever spent without her family. It makes sense, every birthday before this one has been dinner parties at Glimmer’s apartment, with her sister, parents and Bow. Only three years ago had Adora started joining them, and although the time spent having dinner with Glimmer’s family had been fun, nothing really extraordinary ever happened.
Today was different, because Glimmer had had too many mojitos and had danced and sung to every song as if she loved each one, even when she didn’t.
Adora, in her drunken stupor stares at Glimmer, the glitter on her face giving her the illusion of freckles, she is laughing, swinging Adora around the dance floor and making up choreographies that are so silly Adora finds herself unable to stay serious.
Adora’s eyes try focusing on something else, anything but the makeshift freckles that cover Glimmer’s cheeks in a way that reminds her of things she wishes to forget.
But her mind and eyes betray her, landing on the specks of glitter that cover her best friend’s face.
Catra.
Her best friend and worst nightmare in high school.
Catra,
Her first love and enemy.
Catra has always been a contradiction, so when Adora thinks she sees her in the crowd she is filled with both dread and excitement, anger and happiness.
She pulls her hands away from Glimmer, who seems confused at first but quickly moves on to dance with Bow.
Adora all but runs toward the head of long curls she had just seen across the club. She thinks this is insane, Catra has been gone from her life for three years now, gone without a trace.
Catra had left and taken all the good memories with her. Adora reminds herself of this, but still calls her name in the midst of people, pushing and attempting to make her way to the person she has worked so hard to forget
Her stomach is tied in knots when she sees her, a girl in the bar, with a drink so bright it reminds Adora of a flashlight in a dark room.
“Catra?” She asks, although her hand has already reached for her shoulder. The girl turns around and Adora realizes her mistake.
Not Catra.
Adora isn’t sure if she feels relieved or heartbroken, if she is even capable of feeling both things at once.
The apology quickly dies in her mouth when something else emerges and she rushes toward the bathroom.
The vomit leaves her unceremoniously, yet she thinks she must look like a renaissance painting. Her tall frame in neon tights and a white dress, covered in glitter with a disheveled ponytail, leaning against a disgusting bathroom toilet bowl with the stall door still half way open.
When Glimmer shows up (how she even knew she was there remains a mystery,) in the blink of an eye Adora is getting her face washed by her best friend while Glimmer questions if she can even walk to the car.
Adora isn't 100% sure of what she’s saying, because her drunken mind is reminding her of the worst day of her life without her consent.
She closes her eyes and attempts to catch her breath.
When she opens them again she finds herself in the club’s parking lot. She becomes aware of Glimmer desperately dialing Bow’s number while allowing Adora to use her shoulder as a head rest.
“Have you ever been around a missing person’s case?”
Adora realizes she is crying, or sobbing is a more appropriate term for it. She is making no sense, words slurring as she tells Glimmer things she has never brought up before. Things she has never wanted to bring up again.
Tears blur her vision and she is gasping for air while Glimmer tries to soothe her, rubbing circles on her back and telling her everything is alright.
“We weren’t friends.” She continues, although every part of her is telling her to shut up. To stop talking. To place Catra back in the filing cabinet of her mind, with a lock and key. Never to be spoken of again.
Adora knows the glitter in Glimmer’s cheeks isn’t really what has caused this reaction, in all honesty this reaction came from a lot of things all at once. It came from the lights and the song that was playing, and the way Glimmer’s dress made her seem as if she was floating.
Adora’s mind selfishly clung to the good memories, to the punch bowl that had been spiked, to her friends hiding behind the old high school gym’s bleachers and handing her stale beer. Her stomach twists in knots, when prom queen was announced Catra had already been gone for hours.
Only to be reported missing two weeks later.
“It must have been painful either way.” Glimmer tells her, running the pads of her fingers on her scalp and Adora is sobbing, of course it was painful.
“I was having what seemed like the best night of my life when she disappeared.”
Isn’t that silly? Out of all the things she can say, that's what she chooses. Not their history, or Catra’s name. Not the fact Adora could have sworn she saw her today.
Adora thinks it's funny how selfish she can be, out of everything she can use to describe her complicated history with Catra, she decides to talk about her prom night.