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The water is soothing, cool against her skin.
It’s nice, even if the mornings are still chilly this late into spring.
It’s extra nice against the parts of her that are achy and bruised.
It’s especially nice against her wrist, which is currently black and blue and still fucking hurts after what happened to her dumb ass yesterday.
In hindsight, climbing that tree was a stupid fucking idea. She should’ve known better, she’s always been ass at climbing trees. It's not the first time she's fallen out of a tree. Travis was the one who always climbed them before. But she had wanted to teach Gen something about scouting ahead, so up she went.
She just wishes she hadn’t had to learn just how stupid she was by falling out of a fucking tree.
Nat had hit the ground hard, hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. She had to lay there on the ground for a few minutes before she’d finally caught her breath. Gen kept fawning around her, not knowing what to do but thoroughly freaked out about the amount of blood dripping down Nat’s face from where she’d hit her forehead against the tree.
All in all, though, she was pretty lucky with her injuries.
At least, that’s what Misty was pretty insistent on. From her examination of Natalie, she’s not concussed (which wasn’t a big worry of hers because she’d been concussed before and while her head hurt, it's lacking the confusion and nausea she'd felt then) and the cut on her forehead probably won’t even scar. It only bled so damn bad because head wounds are just like that. Her right wrist is only a bad sprain. She sort of had been freaking the fuck out about what they’d do if she had broken her fucking wrist but Misty was pretty insistent that Nat had only sprained it and she’s choosing to trust her. She’s the closest thing to a fucking medical expert they have out here, after all.
Other than that, it’s just some scrapes on her hands from trying to grab at bark to stop herself from falling and her body aching deeply in some places from hitting the ground.
So really, it could be worse.
She’d had trouble getting comfortable last night, with all her achy parts and it sort of actually hurting to breathe. So, she woke up earlier than normal.
Despite the fact that Mari and Misty had done their best to get all the blood and dirt off of her yesterday, there was still some caked into her hair. Her hair was already getting to the point it was desperately needing a wash so she just feels gross.
She’s grateful that Shauna and Misty had managed to make any form of soap for them in the first place but they all try to not wash their hair more than necessary anymore.
She misses feeling truly clean.
But there’s only so much you can do when you’re stranded in the fucking wilderness.
Washing her hair is going to be a process today, with her swollen, pulsing wrist and the cuts in her palms. It’ll hurt but hopefully not too badly, since it will probably take a couple of tries to get all the dirt and blood out of it. And by going alone, not something she’d usually do, she doesn’t have to deal with anyone offering to help her out of pity.
Because, even with all the shit that hurts on her body, that moans and groans with every movement, she’s perfectly capable of washing her own fucking hair.
She’s lazing about, floating on top of the shallow water. It’s nice to put her ears under as she does so, not having to listen to her surroundings and just focusing on the way the sky changes as the sun rises further and further up.
As much as she misses hot, running water, bathing in a steam has its perks sometimes. Like being able to float and stretch out, feeling the water flow gently against her skin and between her fingers. Like being able to see how the sky changes as the sunrises. It’s nice not cramping yourself into a bathtub that you can’t even lay flat in.
There’s no good replacement for a hot fucking shower though. She’s talking about the kind of heat that’s barely tolerable, making you dread getting out of the shower and losing that kind of warmth.
Those, she misses.
There’s a snap of a branch as something moves in the woods, making her sit up quickly. She hisses softly when the movement pulls at one of the tender muscles in her back.
She knows it shouldn’t be anything dangerous but she still reaches for the knife she's got sitting beside her soap on a nearby large rock.
Either one of the other early risers or some sort of animal that will most likely be scared away if she shouts at it.
Natalie is just hoping it’s not Van and Tai up early due to another sleepwalking episode, looking for somewhere to either relax or get it on. Or both.
It’s none of those.
It’s Misty, who’s arms are full of things that make it clear she’s also here to bathe.
For the most part, the rest of them bathe at the same time or in small groups. They'd been teammates before this, so they were already used to seeing each other half naked in locker rooms and the longer they’ve been out here, the more and more comfortable they’ve all gotten about it. Most of them keep some form of underwear on but Lottie’s gotten pretty fucking comfortable around them all and, putting that with her wilderness bullshit, she just bares it all. It’ll only be a matter of time before more and more of them feel the same way.
(Sometimes she worries it's only a matter of time before Lottie's got them all naked and covered in animal blood, dancing around a fire and screaming to appease the wilderness.)
Even around the village, especially with warmer and warmer weather, it’s not uncommon for someone to lounge around in a sports bra.
Misty is the only girl who’s the odd one out.
She bathes alone.
Apparently early in the mornings, when everyone else is still asleep.
Lessens the chance of anyone stumbling across you while you're naked and vulnerable. Kind of like Natalie's plan to avoid anyone while attempting to wash her hair.
“Oh,” Misty’s voice rings out clear despite how soft it is, when she notices Natalie in the stream. She drops half the things in her arms as she reaches up to cover her eyes, “I’m so sorry Nat.”
“It’s okay. They’re just boobs, you’ve got ‘em too,” Natalie says, finding she has to resist the most ridiculous urge to shimmy.
“I’m still so sorry, I’ll leave you to it,” Misty replies, voice dripping with embarrassment as she continues to cover her face.
“Misty, you can stay if you want. It’s not a big deal.”
“No. No, I’ll come back later.”
Natalie doesn’t really see why it has to be such a big deal.
“You were coming here to bathe, right?”
If she’s insecure about what she looks like, Nat’ll keep her mouth shut. She really doesn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else looks like but she’s a girl too. Even if she doesn’t worry so much about that, especially not anymore, she still gets it. Outside of normal societal bullshit, people liked to talk about Natalie and her body the same way they’d talk about Misty’s, saying whatever they want because she’s a total slut right? She asks for people to say that shit, right?
God, people fucking suck.
“Yeah but I’ll do it tomorro-“
“You should stay, I won’t look if it makes you feel better,” Natalie cuts her off, hoping she’s hit why Misty avoids bathing with the rest of them.
Misty seems hesitant before she says, “Okay. Promise you won’t look?”
”I promise.”
Natalie turns away from Misty and gets to the part she’s been dreading.
Actually washing her hair.
It’s not off to a strong start either, when just trying to suds up the soap has the scrapes on her palms stinging.
Her wrist complains a bit at motion of raising her arm up to her head, making her feel silly.
It’s just a sprain. She can manage this.
She has to be much, much gentler than she normally is at scrubbing her scalp and hair. If it’s not her wrist, it’s the tender spot where she whacked her head. Or it’s the stinging in the palm of her hands. Or something in her back moves wrong and pain blossoms.
She’s not sure how effective being this gentle is going to be, when there’s not just dirt and blood in her hair from her fall yesterday but a build up of sweat and grease that comes with the territory of being stuck outside all the fucking time.
It's a slow progress but she thinks she's getting somewhere.
It’s manageable, even as having her hands above her head pulls at her sore muscles, even as her wrist starts to hurt more and more.
It has to be.
She’ll feel fucking pathetic if she can’t do this.
It’s just washing her hair, she should be able to do it.
Her eyes prickle with tears and she can’t tell if it’s from the building pain or the fucking frustration.
Just when she’s thinking this one wash is going to have to be enough for now because she doesn’t think she can handle a second, her hand cramps up. Bad.
“Fuck,” she says through clenched teeth, rubbing at the palm of her offending hand.
“Natalie?”
She turns to look at Misty on instinct, not thinking about her promise until she’s already gotten an eyeful. She quickly looks away.
It takes her brain a moment or two (or five) to catch back up with her, trying to figure out what exactly she thinks of what she saw. Her brain is supplying all sorts of words to describe Misty.
(pretty. soft. some part of her wants to look again. look more.)
None of her thoughts are helpful.
Her hair was weighed down from the water, longer and straighter than normal, clinging to her chest.
Nat thinks if she had looked for more than a few seconds, she’d have more more more thoughts, in a way that's kind of confusing.
For the most part, all her thoughts on Misty and her appearance are pleasant, boarding on weird, but they’re just not things she wants to associate with Misty at all.
Misty is Misty.
She just looks,, normal. Like a person. Like any other girl she’s ever seen half naked in a stream. And that’s a decent amount of girls, given it’s basically all her teammates.
Normal is what she’s settling on.
“What do you want?”
There’s no hesitation when Misty asks, “Do you want me to help you?”
“No.”
Her answer is quick. Certain. Firm.
She hears the water shift around Misty as she moves, “Are you sure? It seems like you’re struggling and I don’t mind helping.”
She feels the irritation growing inside her.
“I can wash my own fucking hair,” she says. “And I thought we agreed to not look at each other.”
“I don’t have my glasses on, you’re nothing more than a Nat sounding blur to me!”
Misty clearly bathes alone, a fact she’s been aware of on some level this whole time but ignoring. Because, while Nat knows it's a bad idea, she honestly didn’t want to deal with it. It’s obviously risky but she doesn’t see why she’s gotta deal with all the stupid shit everyone else gets up to. They’re all grown enough to deal with the consequences of their own stupid ideas.
Sometimes she bathes alone too. She doesn’t wanna give the rest of them any reason, let alone a stupid one, to call her a hypocrite or some bullshit when they decide they've gotten sick of their current group dynamic. But she can’t let go of the fact she’s been doing it blind apparently.
“You have to know bathing alone in the fucking woods is already stupid, but you’re doing it blind?? What if something happens?” she says, hoping Misty’ll take the bait and change the subject.
A hope she knows is probably for nothing, given Misty can be fucking relentless.
“I’m screwed if I lose my glasses. I can't see anything without them! Isn’t much sense in risking it if I couldn’t effectively fight back against an animal anyway,” she says. “Plus if one of you guys wanted to kill me, you know where I sleep.”
She’s not shocked Misty's mind went right to murder. Personally, Nat’s more worried about an accidental drowning.
“You could just bathe with the rest of us. No one will j-“
Misty cuts her off, “Hey! Don’t distract me! Let me help you!”
Goddamn it.
“I’m fine.”
And she is! She can manage just fine! Misty needs to back the fuck off!
“You’re not fine!“
“Fuck off.”
“It’s okay to need help, you know. It's not shameful. I know how bad your wrist is because I looked at it yesterday. And I can hear that you’re in pain, even if you're trying to be quiet about it. I’m not trying to insult you! I just want to help.”
Natalie doesn’t like accepting help, she doesn't like asking for it. It's too hard, like pulling teeth. She’s too used to doing everything alone that it always makes something like shame boil in her stomach when people offer it. It makes her feel like they're pitying her or that they think she's useless.
“You’re being weird, Misty. Stop offering to wash my fucking hair.”
This whole fucking thing is getting weird.
Misty is weird on a good day, something Nat finds she doesn't usually mind, but her insistence on helping Nat out isn’t really giving her any warm and fuzzy feelings about the other girl right now. And they’re arguing about whether Misty should be able to wash her hair, while they’re sitting almost naked in a fucking stream.
God, how the hell has this become her life?
“Am I? People offer to help others when they’re struggling with things that cause them pain.”
Like Misty can judge what’s fucking normal.
“You’re being fucking weird. I can do it myself just fine!"
Why can’t Misty just drop this?
She’s not wrong, as much as Nat hates to admit it. People do offer to help each other out when they can't do something or struggle with it. Even when those things are simple or getting help for them makes you feel vulnerable and weak. People do things like that for each other.
She knows that some of the others would've offered to help her too, they just would've backed off when Natalie made it clear she wanted to do this herself.
Nat doesn’t ask for help or accept it.
Not easily, at least.
She’s had to learn to do shit alone her whole life.
She can take care of herself.
She can do this alone.
“Even if I’m being weird- which I don’t think I am- let me help you. You’re hurt and I believe you when you say you could do it but it’s clearly hard. I can do it for you. Let me do this for you," Misty's voice gets softer towards the end of that sentence. Natalie can almost picture the look that would go along with it, something open and kind that would make her wonder if it's rehearsed or not.
Nat wonders if ignoring her will make her drop this.
"Wouldn't it feel nice to have your hair actually be clean?”
Her muscles complain as she lifts her arms back up to her head.
Fuck.
“I won’t tell anyone if that matters. I just want to help you.”
Something everlastingly stubborn in Nat still wants to refuse the help. To finish this stupidly simple fucking task on her own. It’s washing her own goddamn hair, she should be able to do this, even with her injuries. She’s not hurt that bad.
But her wrist is pulsing, pulsing, pulsing in pain with every beat of her heart now and she still can’t quite shake the charley horse in her hand. She’ll soon have to face the reality that she’s probably going to need to scrub at her hair again to get rid of all the grease and grime and blood which makes all her achy muscles want to scream. Or just live with half clean hair until she’s able to tolerate it.
And it’s Misty.
Accepting help from Misty is a double edged sword if she’s ever seen one. She’s giving her exactly what she wants, to be needed. Accepting kindness from Misty comes with the exact same risks that being kind to her comes with.
Natalie risks Misty sinking her teeth into her and latching on all the time anyway, being as tolerant of her as she is. She's sort of always risked it. What’s the worst that could happen if she gives in here, too?
And if there’s anyone out here it might not be completely and utterly humiliating to accept help from, it might be the only one of them who’s made herself the caretaker and has taken care of others in worse situations.
She appreciates that about her sometimes, the way Misty will do things the others won't. She's desperate for scraps of affection and praise but she makes herself useful, which is more than she can say about some of the other girls. Or even Travis, the last few months.
(She thinks the answer to least humiliating to take care of her used to be Travis but things aren't the same anymore after last winter, after Javi. She doesn't like thinking about any of it or the way it weighs heavily on her even when she doesn't.)
Plus Misty’s made herself vulnerable too, sitting mostly naked nearby.
Maybe it won’t be so bad to accept her help.
It still makes something roil in her stomach, though.
She would like to feel as close to clean as they manage to get out here.
She can’t think about it anymore otherwise she’ll just talk herself out of it.
“Okay.”
“Okay! Rinse your hair out while I get my glasses.” Misty says, perkily.
Fucking Misty.
She's got a feeling that she's somehow given Misty exactly what she wanted.
She slips under the water, carefully getting the suds out of her hair. It's easier than actually trying to wash her hair, which she's grateful for. She'll be damned if she gets Misty's help with this too.
She's aware of Misty's presence behind her when she surfaces again. She hears the water move around the other girl has she comes closer and sits down just behind Nat.
Misty seems to be hesitant now, even after all the fucking insisting and Nat’s about to ask her what’s the problem when she says, “Shit, the bruising on your back looks even worse today. How’s it feeling? Do you mind if I touch it?”
Misty, unsurprisingly, doesn’t wait for Nat to answer before she’s pressing gently on the ridges of her lower spine. Her hands are warmer than she expects, at least.
She hisses softly at the pain of it, “It fucking hurts. Wrist too.”
“I can take another look after we’re back on dry land.”
Natalie really wouldn’t mind turning around to show Misty her wrist now but she doesn't want to make Misty uncomfortable. It can wait.
“Just focus on the hair for now.”
"Okay."
Misty starts by raking her fingers through Natalie's hair. She's trying to be careful, Nat thinks, but her fingers keep getting caught in tangles. She cringes a bit but it could be worse. Even with a brush, her mom was more aggressive than this.
"You did pretty good despite everything, you know," Misty says, hands leaving her hair.
Nat ignores the strange praise Misty is giving her for doing this very basic thing that most people can do.
"Then why were you so insistent to help?"
"We both know you needed a second wash and would've struggled with it from the pain." Misty says, "Even if you won't admit it."
Nat rolls her eyes while her wrist continues to throb.
Misty's fingers are delicate against her scalp when they return, so unlike what she expects from her. Not when she knows how impulsive she is, how she is too much, too often. Not when she can still clearly see Misty with blood all over her face after she'd cut Coach’s leg off with an axe.
She is capable of using more force than Nat is though, which does feel nicer than she'd care to admit.
Until Misty hits a particularly tender part, causing Nat to hiss in pain.
"Sorry," her tone is gentle, soft.
Misty quickly learns to avoid the tender spots, after that.
(Natalie thinks, sometimes, when Misty's inherent strangeness is more charming to her than off-putting, that she wouldn't mind being friends with her. And then she remembers amputated legs and spiked soups and obsession or any of the rumours she thought to be true back home and thinks better of it.)
Misty is quiet, focusing on the task at hand.
She was sort of expecting the opposite, given Misty's tendency to never shut up.
It unnerves her a bit.
It gives her too much time to think.
Nat feels,, weird during it.
Vulnerable. Small.
Natalie doesn't like feeling vulnerable.
She can't even remember the last time someone washed her hair for her that wasn't at a hair salon. And even that hasn't been in years.
She remembers being about 4 and her parents fighting about a huge knot in her hair, unable to agree who was supposed to be the one taking care of her hair. Her dad was drunk, so it quickly spiralled out of control in a way that even thinking about now makes her heart pound a little faster. They'd landed on blaming Natalie for it, even though she'd never been fucking taught how to care for her hair. She was still screamed at and then forced to cut her hair short.
If there's anything nice about being out here, it's that's there is less reminders of her fucking childhood. Of her mom and how she just doesn't fucking care about Natalie or anything really. Of her dad and his words and his violence and how she still sees his dead body in unwanted flashes no matter how much she wants to forget it.
Like she ever could forget. It’s always there, waiting for the right moment to punch her in the face with the reminder, with the guilt of what she did to her dad.
Misty accidentally hits a tender spot again, mercifully stopping her train of thought in its tracks.
She tries to focus on things around her to keep her mind from wandering back there. The way the sun feels warm against her face, the feeling of running water across her skin. The smell of dirt and trees. The sound of the birds chirping and Misty’s soft breathing behind her. Misty’s fingers in her hair, trying to be soft and gentle. It’s starting to feel,,, good. More relaxing.
Even if the idea of help still makes her skin itchy and something like shame rise inside her.
It’s okay though. It’s okay.
If she keeps telling herself maybe she’ll believe it eventually.
“You’re good to rinse now Nat. That should’ve gotten everything but if you think you need another wash, let me know,” Misty’s voice is soft when she speaks.
She wonders if Misty realizes her weird mood and is trying to be kind. It’s hard to tell with her sometimes.
“Okay.” She thinks for a second and then says, quietly, “Thank you.”
Misty squeezes her shoulder before she moves away from her. She doesn’t move far from her though.
“I'm going to wash my hair while you do that."
"I really don't need a play by play." When she notices Misty isn't moving any further away, she adds, "Are you staying that close?"
"Why?"
"Because I might end up seeing something you don't want me to if we're this close to each other."
She’s already accidentally seen more than she meant to.
She hears Misty hum, thoughtfully, before she says, "It's okay. You've made yourself vulnerable, I can do it too."
Natalie wrinkles her nose at being called vulnerable.
"Would you mind putting my glasses on that rock?"
"Yeah," she replies, turning to take them from the other girl.
Misty smiles warmly when they make eye contact, as she hands them to her, "Thanks."
Nat's heart does something funny at it.
She places Misty’s glasses next to her knife, hoping that’ll keep them from falling in.
(Some part of Nat likes it when Misty's smiles are real. She has a nice one. She does fake them a lot, some of them deeply unnerving, like she's trying to show you all her teeth. Misty doesn't seem to realize how off-putting that is.)
Then she slips under the water to start rinsing the soap out.
It's nice under the surface, peaceful. Like nothing else matters but this moment, ignoring the world as the water drowns out all other noise. All other feelings.
She floats when she's back on the surface, letting the gently moving water help get the rest of the soap out.
They're both quiet for a while.
When Misty lets out a soft string of curses, Nat looks over at her without thinking. Again.
She's fighting with her hair, some tangle giving her strife. Nat's always liked Misty's hair, something about wild, frizzy curls always holding her interest.
Looking at her now, Nat doesn’t really get why Misty hides herself so much. Seeing her this bare, she’s not hard on the eyes at all.
In fact, Nat finds herself, yet again, thinking Misty is,, pretty.
She wants to shake the thought off, to not think that about the weird girl she knows better than to get close to. But she's realizing she's probably always thought Misty was pretty, ridiculous cat sweaters, strangeness and all, she just never connected those dots in her head before.
Huh.
Something about the morning sunlight and her tired brain makes those dots easier to connect than ever.
What the fuck.
She's not sure how she feels about this development.
She's always noticed girls. Girls are hard not to notice, there's so many different ways a girl can be pretty and Natalie finds a part of her can always appreciate their beauty. Who wouldn't notice?
Her eyes dip lower for just a moment and her face flushes. Misty’s certainly recovered well from winter, especially in some areas, better than the rest of them.
She's not sure if what she's feeling is jealousy or if she's-
Her face burns more.
Her eyes are back on Misty's face and the girl squints at her, trying to make her shitty vision work to see Natalie clearly. Misty doesn't seem uncomfortable at least, just confused.
She turns her head away sharply, just so she stops basically gawking at Misty.
What is wrong with her?
(She wasn’t staring at her boobs, she wasn’t. Sure, Nat notices other people’s tits sometimes but how can you not? And yes, she does have an ability to appreciate a nice pair of them because, once again, how can you not? They’re there and they’re fun. Does Misty have nice boobs? Maybe!
Her mind is truly fucking blank for a moment.
What is going on???
Maybe she really is concussed.)
It’s not surprising necessarily. Nat’s known she’s attracted to girls too for a while. She connected those dots when she figured out that the way she admires girls is different from how straight girls do.
It’s just that it’s Misty.
She’d like to think she’s got more sense than that.
She really did look pretty, the morning light making her look softer, softer, softer. Delicate.
Misty doesn’t really have hard edges to begin with, not in the way Nat does. It’s just that the morning sun softens her features even more, making her look gentle and sweet in a way that isn’t inherent to her personality.
(There's always been cruel jokes said about Misty but Natalie can't really see why anyone would complain about having her in their bed, insane personality and all.
Would letting herself drown, right here, right now, be an overreaction?
Maybe she should drown herself.)
Soft isn't a bad thing.
They've all been slowly losing the hardness that near starvation brought them now that they're eating regularly again. She can still remember the constant gnawing, the emptiness of a hollow-stomach. How desperate that sort of hunger makes you. The way her own body slowly became all sharp edges, how she became weaker and weaker as her body ate itself to survive. How irritable they had all become. Gaunt faces. Bony knees and elbows. The panic, the guilt she felt in the rare times she saw someone changing, skin pulled taut against bones, able to count ribs and clearly see the ridges of spines. Everything was sharper, harsher.
Softness is good. Softness being returned to her teammates, full cheeks and soft curves, means the hard edges of starvation are leaving, a sign that times are better.
(She tries not to think too hard about next winter, only what they need to do to prepare. She doesn't want to live through anything like last winter again.)
Softness looks good. Especially on Misty.
Hm.
She slips back under the water, hoping it will stop all thoughts of Misty. Her head is already tender, no point in hurting it more with thoughts she doesn’t really wanna think hard on.
Things are quiet between them for a while, as they finish bathing and get out of the water. It’s, much to Nat’s surprise, a comfortable silence. Just the two of them existing in the same space. Until Misty starts her babbling. Nat’s learned through the forced proximity of the last year that the other girl seemingly cannot help herself when it comes to talking.
Nat’s happy to let her talk though, just letting it blend into the background.
Misty did good with her hair, she finds when she’s attempting to brush it. Much better than she would’ve been able to.
Misty’s got a nasty habit of assuming she knows what you need better than you do. She’s oftentimes wrong or goes about it in a way that ignores any and all boundaries normal people would respect.
But, sometimes she’s right.
She was right this time. If Nat had continued, she just would’ve made everything hurt more. But Nat doesn’t have to tell her that, telling Misty she’s right never does anyone any good.
“Nat?”
It takes a moment for it to register that Misty is actually expecting an answer from her this time. She looks over at Misty, who’s brushing her own hair and staring at her.
She’s been avoiding looking at her like she’s getting paid to do it but she finds she still thinks Misty is pretty. So, no putting that one back in the box now that it’s a thought she’s aware of.
“Yeah?”
"Do you want me to look at your wrist now?" Misty asks.
She nods her head and moves closer to Misty, sitting down in front of her, their knees bumping together. She offers her arm to the other girl. Misty is careful when she takes it in her hands. She can feel that Misty is twisting her arm, prodding gently at the worst of the bruising. She sucks a breath in through her teeth. She’s too busy looking at Misty, the way she’s focusing intensely on her arm.
Misty looks up at her, saying, “It’s definitely just a sprain. The bruising looks a little worse than yesterday, and I don’t think your little hair washing attempt helped you out. I think we have some rags or something that we could repurpose and use to keep your wrist wrapped for a few days.”
“Okay. Sounds good,” she says.
Misty eyes dart up to her forehead, “Do you want me to look at your cut again?”
She nods.
Misty grabs her chin between her fingers, using it to move her head how she pleases. Nat doesn’t want to think about why she indulges her this way, when anyone else would’ve shoved her hand away. She just lets it happen.
It’s been a strange morning, okay?
She’s looking at Misty’s face again, the way her warm brown eyes analyze the damage to her face. Misty always looks at everything like it’s a puzzle to figure out. The fact they’ve been out in the sun more has caused the other girl to tan, her cheeks peeling a bit from a sunburn and dusted with freckles.
Her lips look soft.
“You’re very,,, normal looking, you know?”
Natalie has to shove down the impulse to slap her hand over her mouth. She didn’t mean to say that. Why did she say that?? She’s usually good at thinking before she speaks unless she’s angry. She’s not angry. Why did she blurt that out?
And isn’t that just what every girl wants to hear? That they’re normal looking. If she was gonna blurt something out, why couldn’t it have been a compliment??
That still would’ve been embarrassing but at least it’s something more than normal.
Misty eyes drop from her forehead to stare at Natalie in absolute confusion.
At least she doesn’t seem offended.
“What??”
Nat doesn’t know. She doesn’t! Her brain is desperate, grasping at straws so she goes back to the fact that Misty bathes alone.
“I’m just saying, no one would judge you if you came with the rest of us when we bathed. Safety in numbers and all that bullshit," Nay says and she's pleasantly surprised by how even her tone sounds.
Misty seems to try and stifle a laugh at that, dropping her grasp on her chin.
Natalie kind of misses her touch.
(Seriously, is she concussed???)
“It's nice to hear that you worry but,” Misty trails off, like she’s looking for the right words. “Do you not remember that time Mari told everyone I had a third nipple?”
(Misty does really look happy to think Natalie worries about her.)
It’s her turn to stifle a laugh. What the fuck kind of ridiculous rumour is that?
See, there’s a lot of rumours about Misty that get spread around, lots of shit people talk. They’re at a very similar rate of her own rumours. If she dedicated her memory to all the shit spread about herself or Misty, that’s all her brain would be. But she feels like she would’ve remembered that rumour.
“That sounds like something Mari would do but I don’t remember that.”
“It was the last month of 8th grade, when we went on that special class trip for like a week to camp. Mari started telling people right before we left that I had a third nipple, for some reason. By the time we got there, everyone knew about it and that week was hell on earth for me.”
Knowing both Misty and Mari, Misty probably did something to annoy or offend Mari who retaliated the way she knows best, her ability to spread gossip and rumours far and wide. Add that to the fact 13 year olds are fucking ruthless? None of this surprises her unfortunately.
“Yeah, end of 8th grade wasn’t a great time for me so I don’t think I was around for that,” Natalie says.
It wasn’t. Her mom had just lost her job so her parents were fighting even more than normal. She already couldn’t afford that school trip to begin with and ended up skipping a lot of school that June. It’s a miracle they let her graduate anyway.
“That month really sucked for me too. Only good thing was it ended and by the next year everyone had forgotten,” Misty says, her gaze dropping from Natalie’s to look at her fidgeting hands in her lap.
“Mari’s changed, you know. And it’s different out here, no one will say anything.”
“It’s easy for you to say. You’re pretty. I’m not. My mother has made that very clear.”
Nat's heart flutters a moment when Misty calls her pretty.
Seriously.
What the actual fuck is going on with her???
She tries to focus on other parts of that sentence that aren't Misty thinking she's pretty. Like Misty thinking she’s not pretty. Like Misty very casually revealing something terrible about her mother. Misty is like her, she doesn’t talk much about her family. None of them do anymore, not really, but she hasn’t really talked about it from the start.
Makes sense if your family kinda sucks. Doesn’t stop you from missing them, though, even if that’s fucked.
"What the hell does your mother know? You aren't ugly,” she says, hoping she sounds kind.
That feels like the safest thing to say.
Misty is looking at her again, staring at her critically. Like she’s trying to figure out what Nat is going on about or trying to do.
Nat feels her face heat up again.
Misty tilts her head to the side, “Are you making fun of me?”
“No!” She sounds defensive. “I’m just saying that no one would judge you because you look fine! And that your mother kinda sucks.”
The look Misty gives her is strange, something she can’t quite figure out before something more vulnerable takes over her face.
“People will judge me. It’s always like that,” Misty says, stating it like it’s a fact of the universe.
“They won’t! At least I won’t and you can avoid Mari if you want. I just think you shouldn’t worry about it and maybe think about not bathing alone."
“I’ll consider it, okay?”
Good enough for now.
“Okay.”
She smiles at Misty and Misty smiles back and even if it’s hesitant, it’s real.
Misty's eyes dart back up to her forehead and she asks, "Do you want me to braid your hair? It’ll keep it out of the way while you’re healing and won’t pull at your head.”
Braiding her hair is less of a minefield than Misty asking to wash it. Mostly because that, after they’d found out Misty is an excellent braider, she’s braided the hair of the other yellowjackets quite a bit.
It doesn’t trigger the part of her brain that makes her feel small and weak, the same way Misty just checking her injuries doesn’t.
“Sure.”
Misty puts pressure on Nat’s shoulder as she moves to sit behind her, causing something in her back to twitch in pain.
She tries to be subtle when she squirms from the discomfort but Misty still notices.
“Sorry. I wonder if any of those books have something about plants and a salve that could help. I don’t like seeing you in so much pain.”
Natalie just nods.
She’s just fucking fine and all the pain will pass. She just needs time to heal.
But it wouldn’t hurt and keeping Misty busy is always a plus. Being her little project comes with risks but most of them have come out of it unscathed when she’s trying to take care of them.
Misty takes the brush to her hair again, doing a good job at not snagging anything or hurting her.
Misty starts humming some song when she parts her hair and starts braiding half of it.
As annoying as Misty's constant chatter can be, Nat can't find it in herself to actually hate it. She fills silences that might otherwise cause Natalie to spiral, spiral, spiral, the way she’s prone to. Her mind leads her to dark spots that she can’t make it avoid so having something outside it all that’s as constant as Misty and her noise helps.
(And, on some level that she’s not quite ready to face, she likes talking to Misty. Misty is fucking strange and lacks any sort of filter when she’s not pretending to be someone she isn’t, making her fun to talk to.)
What she’s humming sounds familiar, itching at the edges of her brain. It's nothing she listens to regularly but it's there. It's something she knows.
It's right there.
Oh!
"Are you humming ABBA?"
Misty's humming stops, "Yeah, I am. I can stop."
Nat thinks for a moment but doesn't get a chance to say anything before Misty continues, “My mom used to do my hair a lot when I was little and she loves ABBA, so it was always playing when she did it. Doing your hair reminded me of that.”
No one really talks about back home anymore. If they haven’t already passed the year mark of being out here, they’re rapidly approaching it. She thinks they’ve all had to privately deal with the fact that the real worlds stopped looking for them. That they’re all presumed dead, that they’re families have mourned their deaths. She thinks they had to face that fact last winter, with the complete loss of hope and desperation that starvation brought. Home is hard.
But in all her years knowing Misty, what she knows about her mother is limited. Now it’s up to: has a daughter, likes ABBA and insults said daughter to her face.
“They’ve got very catchy songs, I miss music so much sometimes. I keep getting songs stuck in my head and it’s just not the same as actually being able to listen to it.”
“I miss it too. But I always thought you liked musicals and shit.”
“I do! My nana is very into theatre- all kinds, musicals, plays. You name it, she loves it. Whenever my parents left me alone for weekends, she’d take me to see musicals or a play. It was a lot of fun and I learned to love them. She’s in a nursing home now and I was trying to wear my dad down to let me take her out to see another one for my graduation present. It was always so special and I just wanted one more memory like that with her.”
“That’s,, sweet of you,” she says. And it is. “Did your parents leave you alone a lot?”
“She always tried to make things,,, better,” Misty says. She notices the way the girl doesn’t answer her question but she won’t push. Nat doesn’t like talking about that shit either.
Misty finishes the second braid, tugging lightly at the end of it, “There. What kind of music do you like?”
Natalie finds that, for once, she’s the one filling the silence between her and Misty. She talks about her favourite bands as Misty helps her stand up and they start collecting their things. Misty knows some of them. She talks about how her, Kevyn and Rich were planning to get new fake IDs, as the one she had was so fucking terrible she’s shocked it ever worked, so they could spend the summer sneaking into different bars that offer live music in the city.
They’re almost back to the village now. She’s moving much slower than she usually does, something she finds infuriating. She doesn’t like being unable to operate at her usual. But Misty doesn’t seem to mind her sluggish pace. In fact, the other girl is giving her her rapt attention.
“It’s weird thinking about home. I didn’t know what I was gonna do after graduation outside of a summer of sneaking into bars and doing dumb shit with my friends,” Nat trails off. “I miss them.”
And she does. She tries not to think about it much anymore, it’s like poking an old wound these days. She knows the way it hurts intimately but there’s no point in it. It’s easier to miss her friends over her family because it’s so much less complicated. It still aches somewhere deep though.
But they’re stuck here. It’s better to focus on now. The people she can help, those she still has.
(Even if she doesn’t really have anyone right now, now that the gap between her and Travis is so big it feels unfixable.)
“That’s understandable. They’re your friends, I’m sure they’ve been with you through a lot.” Misty says, unable to hide the wistfulness in her voice.
“Yeah.”
There’s a lot about Misty that is strange, something about her that is off-putting to most. But Natalie thinks, sometimes, when Misty is being the closest thing to her genuine self, that they could be friends. Even if she’s still needy, she likes it when she’s not fake. She thinks they see more and more of the real Misty out here. There’s less reason to fake it or manipulate people when everyone already knows exactly what you’re like.
They're back at the village now and just as she’s ready to leave Misty, Misty grabs her hand and says, “You know it’s okay to need people, right? We all do sometimes.”
Misty squeezes her hand.
Nat takes a deep breath before she sighs and rolls her eyes, “Yeah I know. I just don’t like it.”
“I know but it’s a part of life, isn’t it?”
She hates it when Misty’s right.
“Anyway, I’m gonna go see if we have anything to spare to wrap your wrist! I’ll be back.”
And as she watches Misty leave, there’s something like fondness in her heart.
Seriously, what the fuck is going on?
And then it clicks.
What it all means.
Her ever growing fondness, even when it’s met with hesitation.
Her, now very clear, attraction to her.
Oh.
Oh fuck.