Marsh would've expected everything to change after being proposed to. For better or for worse, she was wrong.

Apple acted no differently since her proposal was rejected. Her hugs weren't shorter or longer; the daily drawing sessions involved the same cliches of the past. Marsh braced herself to hear about it for the days afterwards.

But days turned into weeks. And weeks turned into months. She braced herself for a mention that never came.

Marsh was almost as exasperated as she was relieved.

Would Apple seriously propose without thinking about it and then forget? Or was she really just giving Marsh space?

XXX

Whatever the case, Marsh was taking that space.

Marsh sat at the side of her - no, their - bed, staring at the bulletin boards decorating the longest wall. Every single drawing Apple had made her since they'd arrived at the mansion was pinned up, their corners overlapping, their colors coming together. At that point they were six boards into their universal truce, the newest halfway covered.

How many years' worth of drawings was that?

What was the conversion factor for drawings to affection?

'What's the unit of measurement for affection, anyway? Is it the secret glances? I get a lot of those from her...'

There was a sigh behind her as Apple rolled over in her sleep.

Oh, it was far too cold of a season to stay up late staring at drawings. The radiator only did so much to combat how cold it got, after all. In a mere three days, they'd be sleeping within improbably-orange walls with cameras in their faces for the second II reunion. The drawings would be miles away.

'Being thrust into the spotlight would be awful, but for the possibility of more time here, could it be worth it?'

No response met her, of course. Drawings didn't talk, even if they said a lot about the artist.

"Am I even ready for all this? Is she?"

"Marsh?"

Marsh jumped at the voice and noticed Bow. "Oh! ...Hey, Bow." Marsh forced herself to smile. "How much did you hear just now?"

"Enough."

Marsh hugged her limbs close. "Oh."

"Yeah... Sounds like you have a lot of baggage. But it's okay, because there's no rush! And you can take all the time you need, right? If she rushes you, dump her."

"But there is a rush, isn't there?" Marsh mused. "Game show celebrities never stay relevant for long. Her plan won't work five years from now. It might not even work in two."

"Pfft. You two could make a big name for yourselves apart from the show to buy time," Bow suggested. "People love you guys. Do you have any idea how much buzz happens when I post photos of you two?"

"You post pictures?!"

"I mean, just enough to keep the power couple alive," she said more sheepishly, pulling out her phone. "Wanna see?"

She found it, then showed Marsh. There were about two dozen across the last three-and-a-half years, all of simple stuff. The most recent photos were from Christmas.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I needed something to spice up my profile! My selfies are amazing, but you can't have a blog with just selfies. That'd be tacky. Don't worry, I didn't take any that'd hurt your cute-innocent-girl image with the fans."

"I've never done anything like that!"

"Sorry! Just, the point is, your grandma could look through these. There's nothing wrong with 'em."

'As if it's about that!'

Marsh didn't have the energy to argue about it, though, so she gave the phone back. "Glad I could be of assistance," she mumbled.

"Don't gimme that face! Anyway, you better be thinking about what you really want, not what the house needs. If she's worth potatoes she'll stick around."

"I know that." Marsh faced Bow at eye-level. "I know she isn't going to ditch me here alone or anything. If she did, I'd..." The thoughts were scary, so she didn't linger. "...Anyway, I'm not making a choice for myself. I have to do what's best for everyone."

"Aww, look at you being all selfless." Bow braced her hands on Marsh's shoulders, fingertips slipping through her. "It's cute, but you've been selfless for years, you have to be a bit selfish."

"But it's not just me anymore. You're my family!"

Apple mumbled in her sleep, rolling over.

Marsh lowered her volume. 'Remember: your voice can shatter glass.' "Besides, I'm not even sure what I want. We're so young, and forever is... forever. What if we do this now and live to regret it?"

Bow sputtered for a moment, then crossed her arms and mumbled, "W-well, it's not like I'm the right one to ask or anything." After a second, she added, "It sounds like you need to grease the wheels, so to speak."

"Huh? I'm thinking plenty clearly."

"You said you weren't sure what you wanted, so there has to be a way to get in touch with your heart." Bow lightly touched where Marsh's heart was, her fingers phasing through her chest. "And I know just how. Get your coat on, because we're going downstairs!"

Marsh jumped off the bed, feeling apprehensive. What could Bow possibly have in mind?

'Guess there's just one way to find out.'

She quickly donned her thick purple coat, and just as extra protection against the cold floor, she added some nice holiday socks to that.

The reflection of the stars' light off the snow created enough light to filter through the windows, bathing their path in dim white light. It was only a few minutes until they were downstairs, specifically at the bar. Bow motioned for her to have a seat, and began to mix a drink together.

Marsh watched with equal parts interest and unease as she worked, especially once a certain cabinet that hadn't been opened since they'd gotten there swung open. A bright green bottle came out of it. Bow poured some into a glass, mixed it with the contents of a bright red bottle (again from that cabinet), and then diluted it with cold water from a jug in the refrigerator. She stirred and slid the concoction to Marsh.

It was bubbling at the top. The substance was almost opaque, and a sickly dark green color. It looked like something a witch would brew.

"Whoa, Bow... What is this?!"

"It'll let you turn off your brain for a sec and listen to what that gooey heart of yours wants," Bow explained. "What you're doing now isn't working, so it only makes sense you try something new, right? It's half water anyway."

"Y-you mean metaphorically, right? My brain won't actually get stopped by this?"

Bow tapped the side of it expectantly. "You're my bestie. Why would I kill you before you make your big decision?"

"I... I..."

"I'll help you out with that." Bow slipped a straw into the glass. "What do ya say? Don't you trust your old buddy?"

"...um...okay..."

'If this stuff kills me, chances are MePhone's in the area to recover me. ...Hopefully... No. Bow wouldn't make me drink something she thought would hurt me. I just need to put faith in her.'

Marsh reached for the strange concoction and hesitated for a second longer before Bow hovered into her and took over her mind. She got the strange, vague sense of drinking something minus the taste. It had to have been a few minutes before Bow left. The sensation of her thoughts swimming through molasses remained even though she had control again. "What even-"

"It's okay, Marsh! This is normal, I think. Just give it a minute."

There wasn't a hint of doubt in Bow's tone or face, so Marsh gave her the benefit thereof. "Geez... It feels weird."

"That shoulda been enough, uh, miracle drink to get you feeling."

Marsh drummed her fingers along the wooden bar's surface, feeling quite uncoordinated. "Fine... MAN it's cold in here..." She tried to stuff her hands into the pockets of her jacket, but fumbled for a second to get them in. "We couldn't have tried this another night or something...?"

"You were talking to yourself tonight, though," Bow pointed out. "What do you hate so much about the spotlight, anyway?"

Marsh's eyes narrowed. "What isn't there to hate? Ev... Everyone analyzes everything you do and judges you as a person over dumb stuff. It's all so..." 'Gee, what's the word, anyway?' She thought for a few seconds, then replied, "...Superficial! It's superficial and fake and I hate it."

Bow laughed. "I wish I could go to these reunions and be in the spotlight. It's terrible, but I love it."

"If Apple ever relinquishes her hold on me, I'll gladly lend you my body." Her tone was deadpan. "That... kinda came out wrong. Sorry."

"It's fine! I'd appreciate that a lot, actually. Maybe reunion number three, right?"

"Heehee, maybe. I'll talk with Apple about it sometime..."

Minutes stretched into the double digits as their conversation aimlessly meandered between topics. Marsh's thoughts were sluggish. Her words were less precise than usual. (At one point, she described Apple as 'a really good thing that happened once.' Bow cackled.)

There was a lot of laughter.

Bow wiped a tear from her eye. "Aw man, maybe we should take a selfie. This rules!"

"Maybe, maybe later," Marsh grumbled. A wave of pain potent enough to make her wince sliced her brain. "Crap, that hurts."

"This sure is affecting you fast. It's only been, what, fifteen minutes? That wasn't even at full strength."

'This state just kind of... sucks, more than anything. Oh my Marsh I can hardly think. Am I supposed to feel emotions? It's like, Marsh, I do not know...' "This isn't helping."

Marsh didn't realize she'd spoken all her thoughts aloud until Bow replied, "You're not supposed to think, you're supposed to feel. Feelings always show you the way."

"I dunno... sounds like a loada crap to me... Can I just go lay down? I have a headache."

Bow frowned. "Uhh, yeah, it'll still work if you're lying down, long as you don't go to sleep..."

Marsh moved to get off the stool, but stumbled backwards to the ground.

Bow floated down beside her as she struggled to get back to her feet. "...You have to take your hands out of your pockets to do that, Marsh."

Marsh wrestled them out and managed to get up. "I can take care of myself!"

Her legs just would not cooperate. She could still move them forward, but it felt like every step was just a bit too far and off center. Soon she reached the stairs and gazed up at them with narrowed eyes; they seemed to stretch longer than she remembered. It was hard to tell where each stair began and ended.

"What the frick? It's so dark, I need an expert stair person. Where's Dough when you need them..." She stood waiting for a second, then called out, "Hello~!"

Bow floated to her side. "Uhh, I'll help. No need to wake Apple for this."

It was too late, though. There were footsteps overhead, and there was only one person that could be.

Apple soon emerged from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. "Marsh?"

She felt a rush of relief at the sight of her. "I could use some help getting back up there, you know!"

Apple came down with enviable ease; Bow popped into invisibility as she came close. Apple frowned. "What's wrong? You look dizzy."

"I'm fine. I just want some help g-getting up."

Apple grabbed her hand and rubbed her thumb along it. "Do you need to go to the hospitable? You look off."

Marsh's heart ached out of the blue. "No, don't worry about me. Obviously, I'm fine."

"Uhh."

"I just... c-could use a hug, that's all."

Marsh practically stumbled into her. Apple tensed up, but returned it automatically.

Marsh just had to marvel a bit at how nice the hug was; it was like they were in their own little universe. No thoughts, just the exhilarating rush of feelings.

"Of course I'm here for you. Why wouldn't I be? ...Wait, are you crying?" Apple tried to check, but Marsh's grip was too strong. "Marsh?!"

Marsh took a deep, shuddering breath. She was tearing up for reasons she couldn't fathom. "N-nothing's wrong."

"...You sure? This isn't like you, Marsh."

"I-I love you."

"Uhh, I love you too?"

The rising warmth in her chest. The way Marsh didn't want to let go. The presence of that hand on her back bringing her back to Earth while also whisking her away to Mars. How comforting it was to listen to the cadence of her (raspy) voice. How right it felt.

The burning desire in her chest to give this feeling to Apple in return.

As far as Marsh's heart was concerned, there was no denying it.

Time stretched on. Marsh wasn't sure she could let go. Apple's other arm threaded around her once it became clear they weren't moving. Even though Apple's arms trembled with the cold, Marsh couldn't quite tear herself away.

"Marshmallow, what's wrong?"

"...I've been feeling stressed lately."

"Stressed?"

"Mhm."

"...Same." Apple yawned. "You wanna talk about it?"

Marsh hesitated for a moment, then said, "I don't feel like talking."

"Didn't think so." Apple sighed, sounding a bit disappointed. "...Uh, M-Marshmallow... We don't have to or a-anything, but can we go back to bed? It's so cold!"

Marsh rubbed the tears away with her sleeve. "Y-yes."

Marsh finally pulled back, but had to brace herself on the railing to keep from stumbling to the ground. She squinted at the stairs, trying to make them look straight, but before she did, Apple swept her feet from under her.

"You looked like you wanted some help getting back up, so... "

Marsh's cheeks went crimson. "T-thanks."

The feeling never really stopped. Every imperfection in Apple's gait was more noticeable in her arms, and it made her feel jostled around and seasick.

But, was it just her, or were the warmth and steadiness of her arms to die for?

Apple set her on the bed a bit roughly. Marsh took off her socks and flung them at the ground. Then, when she unzipped her jacket, Apple took it from her shoulders and ditched it somewhere.

Apple settled in at her usual spot on half the heating pad. Hardly thinking, Marsh settled in the crook of her arm and sighed. Apple hugged her close and grinned. "Gee, Marsh, since when are you this affectionate? Whatever that means."

Marsh didn't reply.

"Well, I dunno much of anything, so... Maybe Bow'll know." She yawned. "Ah well. Goodnight..."

The next morning, Marsh woke with an awareness of three things. The first was a really bad headache and a vague seasickness. The second was warm affection as she realized she was still burrowed into an ever-sleeping Apple's side.

The third was utter certainty about what she felt.

'Under the influence of Bow's miracle drink, it was supposedly just my feelings... and all that warmth, and comfort, and what-not... it's how a wife ought to make someone feel.'

Oh, there were no guarantees as to what she'd do. There were plenty of logical reasons they might not go that route.

But there was one thing certain: she'd never have a miracle drink again.

She didn't need such a thing, when the one of love was right within reach.