Abby's Blog 🌊🍞🔪

When Glimmer leaves the bath, her skin is on fire. Her arms are bright pink from the scalding heat, her head light because of the thick, delicate florals of her bubble bath. A few weeks ago, her preference on the cover of a gossip magazine, bright yellow letters on top of a smiling picture of her. She’s not quite sure who told them, but it’s not true. The baths hurt, the water as hot as she can possibly get it. At least it replaces every other hurt of the night, and forces her muscles to relax.

Glimmer wraps herself in an unbearably soft white towel and steps out of her room. Her heart jumps when she sees the bed – a plush light blue sweatshirt, red flannel pants, and a mango pudding. She’d stared at the platter of pudding all through dinner, but the glittery lipstick she was wearing made it impossible to eat. She won’t let herself get used to these little comforts, but it’s nice to have.

She doesn’t have much of a choice but to put on the pajamas – everything in her cupboards is small and silky, and she’s too tired to figure out the complicated straps. Besides, they have that perfect fresh laundry smell. She looks ridiculous – the pants pooling at her feet, the sleeves hiding her hands – but it’s nice. Warm and soft, not exposed to every tiny gust of wind like she usually is. 

Before she can stop herself, she eats the pudding. Next to it is a carefully folded piece of paper. The strangely familiar, terribly messy scrawl reads:

Hey Glimmer,

If you’re tired of being awake or being with people, then I hope you have a good night! But if you want to talk to anyone or be around someone, I’m awake. 

– Marvel

Warmth floods her stomach, and she’s standing before she realizes it. She doesn’t know quite why she finds so much comfort in this strange, silly boy, and she thinks she knows exactly what he wants from her, but she doesn’t want to be alone. She wants to lie on the soft red couch in his room and watch nature documentaries, giggling as he does his best to imitate the loud roars of the animals. 

His door is ajar, and he’s at one corner of the couch. “Hey, come on in,” he says. “Do you want a blanket or anything?”

“Yes please,” Glimmer says, grabbing the white fur blanket from his bed. Because she has a favorite blanket in his room – the one she got him for his birthday, the one he’s barely used because she curls up in it every night she can. 

She wraps herself in the blanket and settles in next to him. No longer keeping her distance, sitting as far away as he can, because there’s something steadying about him. She can almost imagine that there’s no pain in her throat from being pushed forwards on the dick of a man four times her age, and that her thighs won’t be bruised when she wakes up tomorrow. She’s just a teenage girl watching a movie with her friend. 

“I just had this on,” Marvel gestures to the action movie on the screen – something with a lot of cars. “But I’ll watch whatever.”

“I’ll watch this if we can watch Lovestruck next?” Glimmer suggests her favorite romantic comedy. She doesn’t mind this – her brain is too hazy to focus on anything. But the comfort would be nice.

“10 minutes left, and then absolutely.” Marvel says.

They don’t make it to Lovestruck, because Glimmer falls asleep on Marvel’s shoulder. It means nothing – she’s in a cocoon of the softest fabric known to man, so cozy and comfortable that she’s lulled into a state of bliss. She wakes up to a soft hand on her shoulder, another carefully pushing her hair away from her eyes.

“Tired?” Marvel asks.

“Do you mind if I sleep in here?” Marvel has that look of surprised joy behind his eyes, the one he has whenever she lets him in a little bit. There’s something so endearing about it. Besides, she doesn’t want to be alone right now.

“No, of course not!” 

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When she wakes up, Marvel is playing a game on his phone. In her barely awake mind, she decides it’s okay if she asks “Are you gay?”

“What?” Marvel looks over at her, a hint of amusement curling in his smile.

“Are you gay? Are you at all interested in women?” She pushes herself up, her back flush against the headboard. 

“Not gay,” Marvel pauses. “Definitely interested in women.”

“Any other guy would have fucked me last night.” She says, staring at the wall. She sounds like a petulant child, even if she absolutely did not want him to fuck her last night.

“When you were half asleep?” He says, incredulous.

Glimmer crosses her arms. “Yes.” It’s happened before. She’s pretty, she was in his room. That’s normally enough.

Marvel rubs his eyes, exasperated. “Glim, that’s not normal. That’s like. Date rape. Or I don’t know if it’s date rape, exactly, but it’s definitely some type of rape.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“God, yes,” the words tumble out before he can stop them. “Sorry. I know you hear that a lot. You are, objectively, really pretty.”

“Pretty girl in your room… didn’t do anything.”  Her voice sounds so small.

“Because, Glimmer. You’re the kindest person, and you’re so smart, and so funny, and I like talking to you. And if I had had sex with you last night, you would have stopped talking to me. And you would have had every right to, because that would have been a shitty thing to do. And I would never want to hurt you.” He looks straight at her, blue eyes meeting bright green. She can feel herself tearing up a little bit, and she blinks to get the tears out of her eyes.

She kisses him. She kisses him, and it’s the best a kiss has ever felt. She’s never kissed a boy, only been kissed, over and over and over. But his hand is gentle on her back instead of possessive, his mouth open and soft on hers instead of hard and taking. 

“Can we talk about this over waffles?” She asks when she pulls away.