Autistic Marcy Wu Oneshots!

All your colors sinking through me

Merry Christmas! I'm here to bring you one more oneshot! I know this was supposed to be completed, and it was... but I couldn't help it <3

This is a gift for my cg, my best friend, my favorite person in the whole wide world who I miss very very much CGhosts_DBHerons <33

This fic includes elements of the song Violet by Marianne Ross (linked above). It's my favorite song at the moment and makes me think of this. The title of this chapter is from the song as well.

As always, this will also be posted on ao3 if you prefer that! Enjoy!

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Marcy sighs, turns over to face the wall. She huffs and turns again, kicking the sheets to the end of the bed.

The room is silent aside from the quiet whirring of her fan.

She sits up, stares at the wall, lays back down. Sticks a leg out from underneath the blankets. Puts it back under. Flips her pillow. Flips it again.

God, she just wants to sleep.

She ponders calling Sasha, but checks the clock and thinks better of it. With the three-hour time difference, it's 4:32 am in California. Sasha may wake up early, but certainly not that early. It would be silly to bother her so early, wouldn't it?

Marcy turns the idea over in her head again and again, decides against it, and lays back down. Another time. She'll call her another time.

-

Turns out, therapists get very little free time. It's been weeks of Sasha promising to call when she gets the chance. She apologizes frequently, but Marcy just waves her off with an "It's fine!". Because even if it isn't fine, what can she do?

Marcy's in bed again, holding her stuffed cat close. She was a gift from Sasha, a little black cat plushie with green eyes and crooked whiskers. Marcy hasn't spent a single sleep without her in her arms.

It's not nearly enough, though.

Her phone screen lights up the dark room, open on her recent string of texts with Sasha. Another promise to call, another promise to visit soon.

It's not that Sasha doesn't want to, or that she's lying- at least not on purpose. She just doesn't have time in her schedule. Marcy knows this. And, well, plane tickets are expensive.

Still, it doesn't make it hurt any less. She always misses her girls, but tonight is worse. She can't sleep again, her brain swarmed with thoughts. She can't ignore the way her heart aches with longing. Not this time. She feels so very small with the weight of her hurt.

Sasha lives in her heart. It's wonderful, but it's also such a terrible, terrible thing. Since moving, Marcy hasn't spent a single moment without missing Sasha. It hurts so much that she feels as if her heart will burst out of her chest, trying to make its way back to Sasha itself. Back to home. She's trembling with weak sobs, thumb resting in her mouth and muffling her cries.

She doesn't want to wait. She doesn't want to read another false promise.

Marcy hits the button to FaceTime, choking on a sob as she does so. It rings

and rings

and rings...

Marcy's just about to hang up when the call connects, Sasha's image appearing in the top corner of her screen. She's clearly just woken up, and it does make Marcy feel a little bad. It's not enough to deter her, though.

"Mars?" Comes the groggy reply.

"S-ash", Marcy chokes out.

The effect is immediate. In an instant, Sasha's sitting up straight in her bed, turning her bedside lamp on. "What's going on? Are you okay?"