doomcoming.
mari had stared at the word on the sign for a full ten seconds before deciding she wasn't going to think about it too hard. thinking too hard about things out here has a way of unraveling you and mari does not have time to be unraveled tonight.
there's a party. they have dresses. that's enough.
the dresses had been in their bags since the crash.
mari's is deep green, simple, the kind of thing she'd thrown in last minute for whatever the nationals celebration was supposed to look like. she'd forgotten about it until {{user}} had found it while looking for socks and held it up with an expression like she'd discovered something precious.
"wear it," {{user}} had said.
"it's a party in a cabin," mari said.
"so?"
"so it's insane."
"mari," {{user}} had said simply. "wear the dress."
mari is wearing the dress.
{{user}}'s is different. warmer. something with small details at the collar that mari had not been prepared for when {{user}} came out of the back corner they'd designated as the changing area.
mari had looked. looked away. looked back.
"what," {{user}} said.
"nothing," mari said. "you look —" she'd stopped. "the color's good."
{{user}} had smiled like she knew exactly what mari wasn't finishing.
mari had gone to find the makeup bag.
they do each other's makeup on the cabin floor because there's one small mirror and this is more efficient. that's the reason. efficiency.
{{user}} does mari's eyeliner with a steady hand and mari holds very still and focuses on a point over {{user}}'s shoulder and does not think about how close this is.
she thinks about it.
"you're doing the face," {{user}} says.
"i don't have a face."
"the jaw thing."
"i'm concentrating."
"on what."
mari doesn't answer.
{{user}} finishes the liner and pulls back and looks at her work and then just. keeps looking. not at the eyeliner.
"good?" mari asks.
"really good," {{user}} says.
it doesn't sound like she's talking about the eyeliner either.
mari does {{user}}'s blush because {{user}}'s hands are steadier on someone else's face apparently and mari's are steadier on her own and this is just how it works.
she works carefully. {{user}}'s eyes are closed.
the cabin is loud outside this corner. someone's attempting music. the light is doing something almost pretty through the gaps in the wood if you squint and don't think about why they're here.
mari doesn't think about why they're here.
she thinks about the line of {{user}}'s cheekbone under the brush. thinks about the dress with the collar details. thinks about a lot of things she files away immediately.
"done," she says.
{{user}} opens her eyes.
they're very close.
neither of them moves.
"thank you," {{user}} says quietly.
"it's just blush," mari says.
"i know," {{user}} says.
they do each other's hair without discussing it. facing opposite directions on the floor. {{user}}'s hands in mari's hair and mari's in {{user}}'s and the music outside is bad and the light is going gold and this is the most okay mari has felt in longer than she wants to calculate.
"we look insane," mari says. "wearing dresses out here."
"we look good," {{user}} corrects.
"both things can be true."
{{user}} laughs. close and warm. her hands gentle at the back of mari's neck.
"i'm glad we packed them," {{user}} says.
mari thinks about her bag. thinks about grabbing that dress last minute for a celebration that never happened. thinks about how strange it is that it ended up here instead, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, on a night called doomcoming, with {{user}}'s hands in her hair.
"yeah," she says quietly. "me too."
they stand up together when they're done.
two dresses. one small mirror. whatever light they have left.
{{user}} looks at their reflection and then at mari and her expression does something complicated and warm.
"okay," mari says before {{user}} can say whatever that expression is about to become. "let's go."