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Dorcas winces as Marlene finishes her thought, dreading her transparency. Sighing in a quick huff, the exasperation slowly dissolves into returning Marlene’s smile. A soft expression filled with aggravation for herself and pure gratitude for the friend that was perhaps the sole contributor to her happiness. Christ– where would she be without Marlene, the thought crossing her mind as it had hundreds of times before. … Very alone. Of that she was certain. ❝Yeah–? Dorcas McKinnon… Sounds nice. Your parents in the market for a quick adoption?❞ She ashes into the bushes, smoke curling from her lips into thick clouds that cover her self-deprecating chuckle, blind once again to the pain her innocent words might cause. Joining the McKinnon brood isn’t quite so far away from her unspoken dreams, if the family were anything like Marlene. Whose energy filled her like a sail, gave her own life direction. Purpose. Marlene, who shared their boundless vitality with someone who might have traveled her life in passivity without realizing what she was missing. Yes…–Marlene was precious.
❝Silly witch,❞Dorcas echoes and nods vigorously at Marlene’s assurances, eyelashes fluttering as she pulls at her cigarette, fidgeting hands stilling as they settle on her vice. As if the moment the words leave Marlene’s lips they grow weight, become true.Absently, Dorcas reaches for her friends fingertips, which had grazed over her arm in comforting warmth only a moment ago, only to find that she had already pulled away. Funny– as her skin still burned fiery hot, tingling. At the realization her soft smile fades quickly and she turns, only to meet Marlene’s gaze head on. The cigarettes flair between them with the lightest of an inhale. Brief flashes of a soft reddish glow aren’t enough to reveal the heat of Marlene’s cheek. Even though Dorcas’ eyes flutter over her friend’s pretty features, an appreciative gaze unsure of where to settle before the light dims and its too late. It’s only once she’s turned away that Dorcas can acknowledge a heat dissipating from her own cheeks. It’s easy to attribute the familiar warmth to that special spark of Marlene’s. Where Dorcas was like a modest match, a short-lived, uninspired flame– Marlene was a wild fire, and had been setting Dorcas alight for years through nearness alone. Dorcas’ hand falls to her lips as a shaking breath escapes her almost winded lungs.
❝You had that Plan B all along. Oh, Marbles, brilliant. I love it.❞ Releasing a contented sigh, Dorcas shifts to bump shoulders with Marls instead and to pull another long drag on her cigarette, humming The Beatles underneath her breath at the mere mention. Nerves soothed by thick smoke and Marlene’s gentle cajoling, Dorcas’s stiffness visibly melts away, her head finally coming to rest on the blonde’s shoulder. She reaches her pale from the cold fingers out into the night, attempting to touch a snowflake that drifts gently past their vision. Beautiful and perfect in the moment as hundreds drift just beyond reach, it only screams of a promise that tomorrow will be a wet and chilly English Christmas. ❝But really, I fully expected the night would dissolve into that anyway…. Now does that mean I know you too well, or are you becoming– gasp, predictable, Marlene McKinnon.❞ she teases with a full smile that draws out her dimples. And just as she speaks a pristine snowflake floats to a rest on the tip of her finger, Dorcas’ smile shifts into a smirk as she reaches over to brush the icy particle on the tip of Marlene’s pink tinged nose.
❝They’ve already got the papers, mate,❞ Marlene returns smoothly, husking a grin. Dorcas McKinnon, Marlene Meadowes... fuck. At some point she’s just got to stop faulting herself for her newfound romanticism and simply give in to its temptation. Funny, how someone can change on the precipice of a whole new emotion. It feels like she’s perpetually drunk, light and floaty when she’s around Doe, and heavy and hungover when she’s away. As if she’s the Earth and someone’s robbed her of her Moon. Her only Moon.
Have people always had emotions this deep? For a moment Marlene almost feels competitive with her feelings for Dorcas. Not even bloody James can compare, and he mooned over Lils for seven years. In a way, her and James are on the same plane. They both fell hard and fast in their first year. But James knew how to place those feelings into action; he had the exposure and experience to separate friendly from romantic. Marlene waded through seven years of denial until she found the truth. And so it was even deeper, even sweeter, even more vast than what James and Lily shared. She had fought herself, her convictions, even society, to come to this conclusion. All the odds had been countered -- except one.
It would be so easy, she thinks, electrified in the moment of their eyes connecting. To lean in. She’s always thought herself so brave, so fearless, bold and brash and wild and daring. Marlene McKinnon exemplified what it was to be a Gryffindor. Or she thought she was. Maybe, if Dorcas was a boy (and she hates to think these thoughts, to allow her mind to betray her like this after all she’s been through) it would be easier. But because Dorcas is Dorcas (is Dorcas...) she keeps distance. Keeps agonizing, keeps pining, keeps waiting for something definitive, a sign from the gods telling her this is shared, that she isn’t alone, isn’t wrong, isn’t mental.
Marlene bumps shoulders back, rolling her eyes jovially as Doe hums the tune of one of the Beatles’ songs under her breath. ❝I know, I’m brilliant, I know,❞ she preens, basking in the moment of their shared contentment. She loves making Doe happy, and is glad to have banished any discontent or worrying thoughts from her best friend’s brain. Those had no place, no ground, while Marlene McKinnon was there. And oh, the reward of a happy Doe is measured by the weight of her head upon Marlene’s shoulder. Marlene’s arm lifts from her side and hovers over the dip of Doe’s waist, contemplative. She decides the safer option is to let her fingers card through her best friend’s hair, tousle it a little. The way two best friends would -- though there’s a tenderness in her touch that almost betrays her underlying need to touch Doe at any given opportunity.
The combination of the boop on the nose with Doe’s teasing challenge has Marlene up in arms. She scoffs, rolling her eyes again, and ruffles Doe’s hair again, tucking it behind her ear. ❝You’ve no clue what else I’ve got under my sleeve, Meadowes,❞ she hedges haughtily, taking a deep inhale of her cigarette and pluming a thick cloud of smoke in front of them. ❝The day I become predictable is the day I die, y’hear me?❞
She spends the rest of her cigarette and ashes it into the snow of her porch. Tenderly, cautiously, she rests the side of her cheek against the top of Doe’s resting head and breathes her in. It’s intoxicating, deadly, and she loses sense of being until her mother’s ringing tones boom from inside the house. As if poured on by oil Marlene jumps out of the embrace between them. ❝We’re bloody coming, Mum, hold onto your knickers!❞ she shouts back, carding a hand through her hair, annoyed at her family’s sense of timing. She turns to Dorcas and reaches for her hand, raising an eyebrow. ❝Ready for some good ol’ fashioned chaos, Dorky?❞
