A Marshmallow's Guide to Loving a Complete Idiot (Inanimate Insanity)(Marshple)

35. Be a Team

There was no actual change in Marsh's hotel room since that morning, really.

Its four orange walls were perfectly immovable, the window was still shut, and the light was still soundly off. Marsh was still sitting in it all alone like she had that morning after the interviews.

There were only two things that were remotely different, and they hardly even counted: the fact that a documentary about Mars was playing on the television, bringing forth old memories of loneliness and universal truces, and that she had a custom red and white sock in her lap.

'Nope... The only reason this room feels so big right now is because Apple's not in it... And she hasn't been for a while. Why isn't she back, anyway?!'

Her mental Marshmallow slapped her in the face. 'Unproductive thinking! Think about something else!'

Marsh stared at the sock to distract herself. It was handmade, and it'd be able to fit over Apple's stem much more precisely than a knit hat from the store.

Or so Marsh hoped.

Okay, she'd never touched her stem before. In fact, she suspected that it was highly inappropriate to ask to, in the same way it would be inappropriate if Apple one day said, "Hey Marshy, can I touch your leg? It's for a drawing I'm doing." But because Apple used her hand to rub it pensively, and Marsh knew the size of her hand from holding it, she had a pretty good guess.

Hopefully.

It'd be a fine post-II-reunion gift. Apple kept her away from the cold grip of celebrity, and she kept her from freezing to death.

'This whole fiasco started Friday, or more properly Saturday. It's-'

There was no clock in the room except the one on her phone.

1:35AM

'Now it's Friday. The final requisite day. A parade and a wind-down day we can skip and go home. ...Thank Marsh.'

The odd thing was that she'd had enough time to make ten of those sock-things since the last time she'd seen Apple.

'Those reporters are taking forever. Can't they just let her get some rest?'

Marsh bounced her leg nervously.

It was thoroughly disconcerting.

'It's been more than twelve hours since I saw her, and she's never up this late. She didn't go to sleep without visiting me first, did she...? Wait a second, that's ridiculous! She doesn't have to see me before she goes to sleep. I thought Apple was the clingy one. ...Oh wait, I have her key. Duh.'

She sat there in the dark feeling foolish for several seconds.

'...Well, now I'm even more worried!'

...

The next time Marsh heard from Apple, it was the sound of a single thump against her door at two in the morning. Marsh practically ran over and threw it open.

Apple stood there wobbling on her feet, leaning against the door's frame.

"What took you so long?! It's been fifteen hours!" Marsh's voice cracked.

Apple grinned ruefully.

"Sorry about that. They kept askin', and I didn't want to leave anyone... with more to ask. But now I can't feel my face and I wanna cry. But also laugh." She blinked, as if confused by her own emotional state. "I'm tired, Marsh..." Then she yawned and fell forwards as if in slow motion.