Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Ayo Inkies! You ready to get Off the Hook?” Pearl’s voice rang out, loud and clear. Marina winced, already nudging her fader down. Pearl always blew out the first line, some things never changed.

"Ok, Marina," she muttered to herself. "No biggie. You got this."

She adjusted her headphones, fiddling with a few of the sliders on her turntable, balancing the low end on the final mix with a flick of her wrist. She signaled ‘go’ to their band, and they were off.

The bass dropped, clean and sharp, just how she’d tuned it in the studio. She felt it more than heard it, thudding through her body. 

Pink and green spotlights flashed and flared as Marina’s fingers danced across her keytar, the click track loud in her ears. Pearl looked back at her, grinning wide, fang flaring, and Marina’s hearts thumped. 

Pearl launched into her verse, as confident as ever. She practically bounced across the stage, looking more at home than ever. 

Marina joined her at the front of the stage as they jumped into the choreo for the chorus. It was electric, to share the stage with Pearl, their bodies moving in sync to the music they spent their lives working on. It felt different, tonight, like all their late-night studio marathons had led them straight to this moment.

Off the Hook’s first full-length album—the very album the two of them had slaved over for months—had been critically acclaimed, even more so than their first. She still remembered reading it for the first time, hands shaking: “Signal Bloom by Off the Hook shows a mature evolution of Ida’s talent for production and vocals, polished and practically pulsing with soul.”

And so, they had finally received a nomination at one of Inkadia’s biggest music awards shows. The buzz was everywhere, and industry insiders were already saying it was theirs. Marina had told herself that winning didn’t matter. That the album was enough, that playing with Pearl was enough. But this? This was proof that she belonged here. Proof she could do anything she dreamed of.

Cameras flashed as Marina played a keytar solo, the climax of the song. It was exhilarating, the pulse of the baseline as her fingers danced across the keys, back-to-back with Pearl. 

Then, as soon as it started, it was over.

As the final note echoed out, Marina’s chest heaved, the crowd screaming. And just before the lights dimmed, Pearl turned, grinning, panting, and met her eyes. Marina couldn’t stop herself from grinning back.

♪♪♪

“Without further ado…”

Marina’s tentacles curled onto her cheeks, the suction cups sticking slightly against her flushed skin. Pearl, seated beside her, cussed under her breath. Their manager huffed a sigh. Pearl’s mother, Mrs. Houzuki, raised a champagne flute to her red-coated lips. Pearl’s father wasn’t there, too busy with work. Not that anyone was surprised.

“The winner of the Best Album award is…”

The host on stage, some Z-list celebrity that Pearl had lamented to Marina about many times before slowly, slowly peeled the envelope open. The room went silent. Marina bit her lip. Pearl nudged her shoulder. Miss Houzuki tutted. 

Marina ran over her speech in her head, She pictured herself and Pearl, hand in hand as they were honored with the silver trophy. Lights burning overhead. Her eyes prickling with tears. Pearl’s grin, wider than she’d ever seen. Marina would step behind the podium, take a breath, the first ever Octoling to win this award, she had to get this right…

“Thank you so much, everyone. It’s been an honor to produce this record with Pearl and our whole team. I want to thank our label, Tower Records, as well as Enperry Industries for supporting us through this process of—”

“Gotcha!” The presenter, a very large shark, laughed heartily, throwing the envelope aside. He grinned, his jagged teeth unnaturally white. “We will actually be announcing the Best Album award directly after the commercial break! Stay tight!” 

Marina groaned. They had already been waiting for three hours, sitting through all of the other awards. She was exhausted. Pearl, on the other hand, was only getting rowdier with impatience.

Pearl scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. “Yo, what the shell was that?! This show’s a joke!” Her voice, harsh and loud, cut through the applause. 

People at other tables whirled around, glaring at them. Marina flushed at the attention, her eyes flicking to Pearl. She looked like she couldn’t care less as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Y’all ain’t got something else to look at?” Pearl raised her eyebrows. The people around them quickly averted their gazes, either intimidated or amused. Obviously pleased at her influence, Pearl’s stubby fingers grabbed hold of her champagne flute, taking a sip.

Mrs. Houzuki, a tiny Inkling with hair that seemed to rival her stature, scoffed, swatting at her daughter’s shoulder. “Language, Princess. You are a Houzuki, and we’re in public. You’re lucky your Gamgam is watching from home tonight. ”

Marina had to stifle her giggle as Pearl’s nose scrunched up, her face flushing pink with poorly-hidden frustration. Pearl was too cute when she was angry.

“Ain’t my fault they need to cut to the chase,” said Pearl, snatching a piece of chocolate off of the golden plate in the centre of the table. Mrs. Houzuki huffed, rendered speechless..

“Yo, you feel me on this, ‘Rina?” Pearl muttered around the chocolate in her mouth, just for Marina. She nodded in response. 

“In-in a way…” she said. This commercial break wasn’t doing anything for the knots in her stomach. “But…you could be a little more, er, respectful.”

“Ha! Yeah, and that chump on stage better hurry up and hand it over already.” said Pearl. Her bravado was cracked at the edges. She was tapping her fingers on her bicep in a steady beat, and she wouldn’t meet Marina’s eyes. 

Pearl Houzuki was nervous. Marina’s hearts thudded, aching. Pearl didn’t get nervous. This really did mean a lot to her, didn’t it?

Oh, Pearlie…

Marina resisted the urge to reach out. Her eyes skirted across Pearl’s profile. Her signature crown, this time in silver, perched atop her cream-coloured tentacles. The slope of her nose, the growing pink flush dusted across her porcelain skin, the way the corner of her lips pulled down in the cutest pout Marina had ever seen. 

The clean-cut lines of her sparkly, cream suit, paired with the edgy silver necklace wrapped around her neck. The flex of her fingers as she wrapped them around her glass to take another sip. The way she sat, so confident, her stubby legs spread wide, taking up space… Pearl was so brave, so self-assured, yet so adorable and—

No.

Shaking her head, Marina adjusted her dress, smoothing down her tight, sequined skirt. Her feet hurt from her too-small high heels, throbbing in time with her heart.

Tonight was about Off the Hook. About the hours she put into fine-tuning their production, and the hundreds of lyrical drafts they’d trashed before they put together the final versions.

Tonight was not about… this.

“Don’t you two agree? It is rather uncouth of my Pearl to be speaking in such a way,” Pearl’s mother turned to their manager, her gloved hand placed over her heart. 

“Especially in public,” Their manager, a large, bulky shark, glowered in Pearl’s direction, lowering his sunglasses.

“Normally Marina is such a good influence on you, Princess. What is going on?”

Pearl rolled her eyes, grabbing her own flute and downing its contents. That was her third glass of champagne. Or fourth. 

Marina couldn’t help but notice her leg bobbing beneath the table. Would it be so bad to reach out and offer a comforting touch? They hugged all the time. It wouldn’t be weird. It would be the least Marina could do. She rubbed her palms together. 

Cod, I’m hopeless…

Marina met Pearl’s gaze, biting the inside of her cheek. She offered a smile—small, not exactly a touch—but hopefully enough. She would do what she could.

“Are you okay?” whispered Marina.

Pearl nodded, putting her empty champagne flute back onto the table. The two of them continued to stare at each other, eyes locked. Pearl’s mother and their manager were still caught in conversation. 

“You ok?" she whispered back, eyes darting to Marina’s tentacles. They were still curled around her cheeks, threatening to untie the complicated updo her stylist had wrangled them into.

Marina hadn’t even noticed that she was so wound up, too caught up in her feelings. That was so Pearl, to care about Marina despite the fact that she herself was stressed. Somehow, Marina was blushing again. She nodded, then broke from Pearl’s gaze, looking down at her lap.

Her speech, her speech, her speech. 

I want to thank our label, Tower Records, as well as Enperry Industries for supporting us through the process of the creation of our EP, which we are so grateful to have--

Suddenly, music was blaring from the speakers again, triumphant horns playing as the host raised the microphone to his lips once again.

“Welcome back to this year’s Inkopolis Music Awards! I’m Finn Fishsticks. We last left off right before we announced one of our biggest awards of the night…”

“Ugh, finally!” Pearl sat up eagerly, rattling the table. “Feels like we been waiting forever!”

“Pearl!” Mrs. Houzuki caught her glass, which nearly fell off. “Be careful!” 

Their manager leaned forwards in his chair. “Alright ladies, this is it.”

Mrs. Houzuki frantically whispered something to her daughter.

“Hey, Off the Hook!” A cameraman walked up to them. “Just getting a good shot for the viewers,” he said, raising it to their faces. He smiled behind the lens. “Good luck.”

Marina swallowed, attempting to smile. The aquamarine sequins on her dress scratched her neckline. Would all their work be for nothing? Of course, they were so young, they would definitely have other chances, but what if they didn’t?

What if Marina could never write a good song again? What if they lost tonight, and Pearl decided that Off the Hook wasn’t worth it anymore? If the world got bored with her, and Pearl did too?

Somehow, her hearts were racing even faster, pounding against the wall of her chest. 

Pearl tipped back in her chair as the cameraman adjusted his lens. She lazily slung an arm over her shoulders, and she gasped, her hearts jumping into her throat. “Heh, thanks dude, but save the luck for someone who needs it.”

He gave them a thumbs up, turning to speak with their manager.

Marina let out a shaky breath. Cod, when had her chest gotten so tight? 

Pearl’s arm was warm. It rested lightly around her shoulders, but Marina felt it like a weight, grounding and dizzying all at once. Her breath caught.The scent of Pearl’s perfume—sweet, with a hint of musk—wrapped around her.

“‘Rina?” said Pearl, softer than usual. 

“Y-yes?” squeaked Marina. Pearl was casual about physical contact, and Marina was well aware of that fact. She just hadn’t expected it, well, now. 

“Yooo, if you're about to pass out, at least wait till we win first.”

“No, no, I…” she carefully met Pearl’s gaze, making sure to keep her expression guarded. “I’m just… nervous. We put so much into this album, and… I guess I just want it to mean something, y’know?”

“Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it,” said Pearl. “It’s just a shitty little trophy.”

Marina couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Pearl smiled too. Leave it to Pearl, her Pearl, to make her feel better.

“...Besides,” Pearl added, even softer, “A trophy don’t mean squat. You crushed this album, our album, and anyone with ears knows it.”

Something fluttered in Marina’s stomach. She wanted to press pause, to stay right here, wrapped in the sound of Pearl’s voice when it dropped like that. But Marina knew that this award truly meant a lot to Pearl. That’s not true, she would say, if she was brave. You want this just as much as I do.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marina noticed Mrs. Houzuki eying the two of them warily. Quickly, she shrugged Pearl’s arm off of her shoulders, letting it fall onto the chair behind her. 

“Hey!” exclaimed Pearl.

The camera lens still stared at them, black and all-knowing.

“I-Is that a Squid Ink 460-T11?” asked Marina, voice shaking as she attempted to make conversation with the cameraman.

He nodded, smirking at her. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p.’

“C-cool. That’s, uh... a really nice lens…” Marina bit her lip, offering the cameraman a shaky smile. Pearl’s presence beside her was impossible to ignore. “One…one of the best for low-light clarity, right?”

The cameraman opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a call in his headset.

“Noooow, let’s get to it!” The host’s voice signaled. It was time.

“Alright, we’re going live in about 30 seconds,” said the cameraman. “When that little green light comes on, you two are free to wave, smile, do whatever you want!”

The two of them nodded.

“Welp, here goes!” said Pearl. “You ready for this, ‘Rina?” she sent Marina a smile, elbowing her, leaning in just a little too far yet again. Mrs. Houzuki pursed her lips, clearly watching. The manager rubbed his temples beside her.

Marina nodded, though her throat was dry. “Yeah… I think so.”

The lights went dark, and suddenly, the glossy blue atmosphere of the auditorium plunged into a deep red.

The crowd hushed. 

The green light flicked on. Pearl switched into performance mode almost instantly.

“Yooo, Inkadiaaa!” she exclaimed, her speech slurring slightly. “Y’all ready to get OFF THE HOOK or whaaat?!”

Her voice was just a little too loud, a little too loose. Oh, cod. Was she drunk? 

Side-eying Pearl, Marina gave a little wave, a hesitant smile spreading across her lips. A drunk Pearl never meant anything good.

At her glance, Pearl threw on a crooked smile, and Marina had to force herself to wrench her gaze away as she offered a hesitant heart to the fans watching from home.

On stage, Finn Fishsticks held the envelope again, this time for real. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The winner of Best Album is…”

The room went quiet. All Marina could hear was the beat of her own hearts in her ears. Her vision swam with anxiety, the stage lights nearly blinding her. 

“The Barnacle Boys, for Seaside Dream!”

The audience went wild. The winners ran up to the stage. Marina felt like she was underwater. Tears stung in her eyes, but she managed to force a smile, somehow getting herself to clap through it all. They lost. Months of her life put into this album, thousands of dollars into promo, and they had lost. 

The Barnacle Boys, a group made up of six Inkling boys who were each overly-muscular (Marina didn’t see the appeal), all sauntered up onto the stage. They didn’t even write or produce their own music. Marina had checked the artist credits.

“Thank you, thank you,” One of the boys said, award in hand. He was wearing nothing but a black fishnet shirt, and his pants were so tight they looked painful. “When we debuted, just a few months back, we said to each other that this award was one of our ultimate dreams.”

“Shut up,” grumbled Pearl.

“And thanks to you, the fans, who streamed our album, our dream has come true!”

That was it. They had lost. Disappointment shot through Marina, electric and all-consuming. She could barely move, let alone speak. The cameraman smiled at them before waving goodbye, directing his attention to the stage.

Mrs. Houzuki hummed, long and low, like watching someone trip in heels. “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

From across the table, their manager let out a hissing exhale. “Damn. This is… not great.”

“Bullshark,” Pearl spat. She shoved her chair back hard enough that it scraped the ground.

It rang in her ears. Marina flinched at the sound. 

“Pearl,” her mother snapped in a whisper. “Sit down. Do not cause a scene.”

But Pearl was already standing, fists clenched at her sides. Her crown tilted slightly forward, like it was about to fall. “I’m not sittin’ through this bullshit,” she muttered, voice rising. “We got robbed. And I’m not gonna clap along like it’s cool, like it don’t matter—”

“Pearl,” their manager warned. “There are still cameras all around us.” His sharp teeth were flaring at her, his beady, dark eyes dangerous.

Pearl’s eyes flicked toward him. Then to Marina. She looked stricken.

“C’mon, ‘Rina,” she muttered, grabbing Marina’s hand and pulling her away from the table. Marina gasped, breaking away. 

“Pearl…” she started, somehow still being dragged towards the exit by the tiny Inkling in front of her. Thankfully, most people were caught up in watching the speech on stage, with only a few heads turned towards them.

“Where are you going?” She pulled Pearl back, and the Inkling stumbled, but she didn’t stop.

“To get some air.” She tugged Marina towards the doors.

Chapter Text

The cool night air hit Marina as she followed a stomping Pearl outside of the venue.

“Pearlie, wait—” Marina’s heels clacked unevenly against the pavement. “Please, please, just talk—”

Pearl practically growled, her tiny hands clenched into fists. “This shit’s so unfair! We work around the clock on our album and they just give it to this sell-out, unoriginal boy band who’ve only existed for like, two months?!” She whirled around to meet Marina’s gaze.

“Pearlie…”

“They ain’t even sample right!” Pearl was pacing back and forth now, her chunky leather boots pounding against the sidewalk.  “I swear to cod that they were cloned from the same dude in a factory because I ain’t even heard of any of ‘em before. We been in this scene for years—we write our own stuff, we produce, we perform like our lives are on the line, and it don’t matter. It never matters!”

Her voice echoed across the street. Pearl shook her head, huffing and crossing her arms.

“Have you gotten it all out now?” Marina hugged her torso. 

“Not yet!”

Marina took a step back, giving her space. Ok, that was ok. Sometimes, Pearl just needed to explode in order to cool down. Marina wished she could make her feel better, but whenever this happened, she just had to ride it out and let Pearl yell.

Pearl rounded on her, eyes blazing. “That shit was rigged! Straight up. You know that I’ve always wanted to do this the right way, the fair way, even though I easily could just get my family to, I dunno—slip a few million to the voting council—but I don’t. ‘Cause I actually care about the work. There’s a reason I started in the dumps. I wanted to work my way up, ‘cause that’s what all the real artists do!”

Marina winced. Yes, the thought of the Barnacle Boys buying their award had crossed her mind, but to hear Pearl say it out loud…Still, she tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. “I—I’m upset too, but—“

Pearl’s face scrunched up, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or scream. Marina felt the urge to reach out and smooth out the wrinkle between her brows. 

“It’s just a bunch’a bullshit!” Pearl shook her head, leaning on the patio railing. Carefully, Marina inched up beside her. The night was silent except for the subtle pound of the bass from inside the venue. “Shoulda’known. We were never gonna win, huh?”

Knowing Pearl, Marina could tell it took a lot to admit that. She wished she could fix this. Wished she could go back in time and make something better, so she could finally give Pearl what she wanted. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards.

If she was honest with herself, truly honest, Marina had really spent the past few days preparing to lose. She’d smiled through the banquet the day before, answered the questions on the red carpet, performed like it was the last time she’d be on stage, expecting it…and she’d allowed herself to get her hopes up anyways.

She twirled one of her rings around her finger. “Pearl?” 

“Yeah?”

“I know you really wanted it this time,” she said, drawing circles on the railing. Pearl pretended not to care, pretended to be nonchalant, but her anger gave her away. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do it this year.”

“It’s whatever." Pearl sighed. “Not like it even matters in the long run anyways. It’s just so…”

“Frustrating?” finished Marina.

“Yeah,” Pearl looked out at the lake behind the venue. Marina joined her. 

The sun had set around an hour ago, and the moon was casting light across the surface of the lake. A few birds that had yet to settle down for the night were chirping. A breeze brushed Marina’s cheeks, and she sucked in a breath through her nostrils, the crisp air clearing her mind. 

They had lost, yet all that really mattered was that they still had each other. That Pearl had Marina. That Marina had Pearl. At least for now.

Marina dared a glance over at Pearl beside her. There was glitter dusted across her cheeks, and her eyeliner was smudged. Pearl looked radiant,  even drunk and angry, her side profile outlined by the moonlight. 

They’d been out here for a few minutes and no one had come to get them yet, which surprised her. Apparently their manager had read the room this time. Pearl seemed calmer now, her shoulders no longer shaking with gasping, angry breaths.

Marina wondered, fleetingly, if they could just stay out here forever. Just the two of them, lit by moonlight, the music behind them a dull memory. No cameras. No crowd. Just Pearl beside her.

She nudged Pearl with her shoulder. “Did you want to head back in?” 

Marina wasn’t even sure if she wanted to. Being out here, alone with Pearl, was the most comfortable she had felt since they’d been on stage together. No manager, no fans, no A-listers, no pressure. 

“Nah.” Pearl nudged her back. She was warm. “Gimme a few more minutes to chill. We gotta do those interviews.” Her voice was still strained, still bitter.

“And the afterparty,” added Marina, with a huff.

Pearl hummed a yes, and bumped into Marina a little too hard, then just… stayed there, shoulder to shoulder. 

Marina didn't move. Her skin buzzed where they touched. She knew, knew , that this was nothing more than proximity and warmth and a little alcohol, on Pearl's side. In her hearts, though? It sparked something downright dangerous. 

“You’re the only one who gets it, y’know that? The only one,” said Pearl, soft.

Pearl had no idea how much that meant to her. She didn’t know. How could she?

"Of course," Marina replied anyways.

♪♪♪

The afterparty venue glittered, gold confetti on the floor, coupled with the stickiness of spilled drinks of every colour. VIPs milled around in designer jackets, swapping clumsy congratulations and half-hearted selfies under moody purple lights. Marina stood a little apart, sipping from her mostly-melted iced drink, still trying to figure out how to breathe again.

They had lost.

The hour she’d spent with her glam team, changing into her afterparty look had been awful. Having to hold little conversations while her tentacles were twisted into yet another complicated hairstyle, while even more makeup was packed onto her face, even though all she could think about was their loss, was almost demeaning .

"Good job tonight, Marina!" A nautilus in a slinky black dress called out as she strutted past her--back towards the dance floor. Marina smiled, waving politely.

She hated parties like this.

The music felt too loud. The black, lacy corset she’d been put into was too tight, the boning cutting into her ribs as she leaned against the wall. She hiked it up. It didn’t even fit her properly. Her skirt was too short for her long legs. Her head ached. She had no clue where Pearl went. Over by the bar, probably. She hadn’t seen her since they’d parted ways after a particularly depressing post-ceremony interview. 

She blinked, and the memory hit her.

“How are you two feeling? We know that your album was one of the top choices to win tonight. Is the loss getting to you?”

Marina’s voice had been caught in her throat. “Um…we—”

“Yo, why’d you say it like that? You coming for us?” Pearl had yelled.

Then their manager, who had the foresight to know that things were probably about to get bad, had prematurely ended the interview, sending the two of them back to their hotel rooms to prepare for the afterparty. 

And here Marina was, standing in the corner of the room, watching on as all the others danced and twisted to the music. None of her other industry friends were here, either way too famous or not famous enough. She pulled out her turquoise sea-cucumber phone, drafting up an Inkstagram story about their night. What was she even supposed to say?

Thank you so much for the support, everyone!! ❤️ We’re sad to have lost, but this night meant everything to Pearl and—

She sighed and deleted the draft. No point in lying about it.

Someone bumped into her shoulder.

“Oops, my bad,” said a cocky voice.

“No, no, it was my fault, I wasn’t looking, I’m so—” She turned, and her stomach dropped. “Sorry…” 

It was the one Barnacle Boys. One of the winners. An Inkling boy named Jai with a trendy, flat-top haircut. His muscles were bulging out of his sleeves. Trophy in hand, a sparkly blue drink in the other. There was a tipsy swagger about him, a smug grin spread across his lips. He was flanked by the other three members of the group, each who sported similar smug looks. Marina suddenly felt sick.

“Oh, hey Marina,” he said, looking her up and down. “Nice dress.”

“Oh, thanks…” started Marina, forcing a smile. Small talk was not her forte. But she knew this guy from their album covers…“Jai, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

It went awkwardly silent, the bassline bouncing. Marina twisted a tentacle around her fingers. Say something. 

She could talk about what she knew.

“I, um, actually listened to your album last week,” she said. “Just to see what everyone was talking about, and—It was great! The mix was crystal clear. The hooks are, uh, definitely catchy, and the vocal stacking on the second track was pretty cool. I noticed you guys used—uh, I think it might’ve been a vintage synth emulator? There’s this texture—kind of a grainy top-end warmth that really made me think of early Fairlight stuff! Like, the CMI series? Sorry, it’s just—um, that kind of tone is really rare now, so it stood out. You can’t fake that kind of sample rate grit unless you’re using either like, really specific patches or…”

He had that look on his face, the one everyone got when she had rambled on for too long. Eyes glazed over, mouth tilted, amused. Two of the other guys snickered, elbowing each other. 

“Oh!” she said quickly, tucking a tentacle behind an ear. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No prob. Yeah, we’re pretty great,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Our producer really knows his stuff. He’s the best in the game. Obviously,” He jiggled his trophy in her direction like it somehow proved his point. 

“Y’know, it’s too bad you two didn’t win anything tonight. Your album was cool. Super…off the hook.”

“Thank you, I—”

“Hey,” he took a long, slow sip of his drink. “You do all the nerdy tech stuff yourself, right? No other producer?”

“Yes, I do!” she smiled, relieved. Now this was something she could explain. “Well, Pearl helps too, but she usually leaves things like the mixing and sequencing to me, and—”

He chuckled, cutting her off again. “That’s cute. Wish we had time to like, tinker with knobs, and stuff, but we’ve got too much on our plates. Being successful takes up all of our spare time.” He took a sip of his drink, lowering his sunglasses. One of the other Barnacle Boys laughed from behind him.

“Still, it’s impressive. Not a lot of girls I know mess with all that techy stuff. Espech ones that look like you. No offense! It’s just… I don’t get how you do it. All the gear, the buttons and stuff… Doesn’t it ever like, overwhelm you?”

Marina felt her breath hitch. Her drink sloshed in her hand. She couldn’t tell if it was the bass or her own hearts hammering in her chest. Was he making fun of her? Confrontation wasn’t exactly her strongest suit, and there was something about this guy’s tone that she couldn’t quite read. 

“I—congratulations, on the win,” she said, already turning to leave. “But I really need to—”

Her shoulders were tense. He looked at her expectantly. She wanted to run, but she was boxed in, dancing bodies all around her. She needed to get out of here. It was too loud, her ears were ringing, and this guy wouldn’t leave her alone, and her tentacles were twisting themselves around her arms. 

“Hey, hey, don’t run off,” Jai said, leaning in with that same too-bright grin. “I was just trying to say you’re like, really good. With the tech stuff. Way better than you look.”

He leaned in again, a grin stretched across his lips. One of the other guys muttered something to Jai behind his drink—Marina couldn’t hear it over the bass—but Jai snorted. “I mean, yeah, if we had time to live in the studio, maybe we’d get to call ourselves ‘artists’ too.”

Was he implying that she wasn't an artist? Marina tried to leave again, pushing past Jai.

"I'm sorry, I really have to go—"

Jai grabbed her wrist, his dark eyes fiery in the purple lights of the venue. "Know your place. We won for a reason, and we don't want you and your partner to think that just because—"

“Yo, Barnacle Bitch! You looooost, huh? Or you just bein’ an ass on purpose?”

A loud, slurred voice cut through the droning bassline. Jai's grip on her wrist loosened, and Marina whirled around. 

Pearl.

There she was, stumbling over from the bar, makeup smudged, glitter all over her cheeks. She had a drink in hand, the other on her hip, and her chest was puffed out. Her knight-in-smudged-eyeliner. Marina was somewhat relieved.

“Hey, Pearl!” he said, grinning, a little too wide. “Good to meet you… Welcoming, as always. You were spittin’ bars tonight! It was fire! ”

There was a glint in Pearl’s golden eyes, and Marina recognized it. It didn’t mean anything good. 

“You!” She pointed at Jai, tripping over her platform boots, some of her drink sloshing onto the floor. “You win one fake-ass award and you think you can talk down to Marina Ida? Oooohhhh nooo. ”

“Pearl…” cautioned Marina, laying a hand on her forearm.

“Whoa, you’re really gonna do this here?” Jai held up his hands like she was the one being unreasonable. “We were just chatting,” Jai said, chuckling.

Pearl practically growled, surging forwards. “No, no nah, nah, you ain’t get to do that. Don’t play dumb wit’ me. You ain’t—ain’t get to stand there with your little sparkly-ass drink and your ugly-ass outfit and act like you’re hot shit just ‘cause your company bought your award!”

Oh, cod, here she went.

“Oho! Big accusation, coming from Miss Houzuki," said Jai. Rage flared pure golden in Pearl’s eyes. “Didn’t your daddy buy your career? Somebody’s feeling bold tonight.”

The other Barnacle Boys chuckled, patting Jai on the shoulder.

“BOLD?!” Pearl screamed. “This ain’t bold. You ain’t seen me bold, not yet. Don’t test me.”

Marina almost felt sorry for Jai. He had no idea what he had just gotten himself into.

“Pearlie!” Marina stepped forward. “Please don’t do this,” She hissed, turning to Jai. “I’m sorry about her, she’s just—”

“Don’t be like that, Marina!” Pearl spun on her heel to face her, almost tripping over her own too-chunky platforms.

People were starting to stare. “Pearl, seriously—”

Pearl turned back to the guy, eyes wild. She jabbed a finger into his chest, wide-eyed, barely reaching his shoulders. “You back off her. I dunno what you were playin’ at, but Marina isn't just someone you can talk shit about. And she ain't someone you should be layin' your hands on. She's not some weak, fragile whatever, not like you! She literally was like, trained in—”

“Alright, alright, relax,” Jai muttered, backing off with a little smirk. “You’re gonna hit me next, or just scream some more?”

If he thought that was Pearl screaming, he was mistaken.

“Wanna bet?” said Pearl.

Behind her, one of the Barnacle Boys pulled out his phone, already filming. Another one whispered something with a snicker. “Bet we get a headline outta this.”

Jai opened his mouth to reply, but Pearl was already pushing past him. Marina rushed to follow her. Where was she going?

“Nope. Nope nope nope. You got me twisted,” she muttered, weaving between dancers.

Marina shoved past an undulating jellyfish as she followed Pearl. “Pearlie? What are you…?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

With dawning horror, Marina realized where Pearl was headed. 

The stage. Not the stage. Anywhere but the stage.

“No, no no no—” said Marina. “Pearl, please don’t—”

Before anyone could stop her, Pearl staggered up the venue stage , nearly falling onto the platform, leaving Marina in the crowd.

“Lemme borrow this for a sec, my dude,” she slurred, grabbing the mic. “Emergency transmission.” Pearl shoved the startled DJ aside and yanked the mic from his stand. Feedback screamed, and the pounding dance music cut out. The DJ stumbled back, startled, but didn’t stop her. Maybe he thought it was a bit. So did the crowd.

It was startlingly quiet. 

Marina was frozen still, unable to react.

“AYOOOO, I GOT SOME TRUTHS TO DROP FOR Y’ALL!” 

“Oh, cod…” Marina whispered, running a hand over her flushed face. Her head was swimming, and as she looked around, she saw that everyone was recording, every phone in the room pointed directly at Pearl. Their manager was shouting at someone, probably security, but the crowd was eating it up. Why was no one stopping her?

Now that she had gotten started, there was nothing Marina could do to get her to stop.

Pearl raised the mic again. Her face was flushed, her chest heaving.

“Ay, ‘Barnacle Bros,’ where you at?” Pearl made a show of looking around. “Oh, yeah, I see y’all over there, lookin’ like a bunch of oafs.” she sneered.

Someone in the crowd gasped. People were laughing, snorting, talking to their friends, but Pearl continued. 

“Yo, is this like… a stunt? Or is she actually losing it?” Someone said. Marina hid her face in her hands. She couldn’t watch.  Mortification settled in her gut like a weight.

“Not to mention those tight-ass jeans. Y’all actually think you look good in those? You think wearin’ those makes you all that? ‘Cause to me, it just looks like you stuffed yourselves into pants two sizes too small. You can’t even walk properly!”

She had to do something. She couldn’t just let Pearl stand there and humiliate herself in her name. Marina began pushing through the crowd. “Excuse me, sorry,” she hissed, rushing to the stage. Pearl’s squeaky voice still reverberated throughout the venue.

“Aaaaannd speaking of not doing things properly—y’all ever written your own beats before? ‘Cause I ain’t ever heard music more plain-as-white bread in my life.”

Pearl swayed as she stepped forward, grabbing the DJ booth for balance. 

“Off the Hook lost tonight, yeah,” she said. “And that’s fine. That’s cool. Even though we lost to a bunch of try-hard wannabes who’s wack music makes me yawn.”

The DJ got up from the floor, attempting to grab the mic from Pearl, but she pulled it away. “Lemme make somethin’ real clear!” Pearl continued. “Marina is our album. Is—is Off the Hook! And—and she made it sound like nothin’ else out there. Nothin’ else!”

Pearl took a step forward, into the spotlight.

“That girl—my girl—knows her beats better than anything else!”

Marina’s breath caught. The crowd gasped in unison. Marina shoved that aside, running up the steps.

"Pearl!" she called, but it was no use. Their eyes locked, but Pearl just kept going.

“And if ya think you’re better than her, if ya think she didn’t use her own, natural talent to get us here—then you ain’t got ears! You ain’t get to come for her. Not ever.”

Marina’s hearts stopped. Her mouth was dry. All she could see were phones, lights, Pearl’s shaking hand. Everybody was looking at her.

Security started moving toward the stage. Their manager was pushing through the crowd, his sunglasses askew. Thankfully Pearl’s mother had left after the ceremony. It had taken them forever to do anything. Maybe everyone thought it was a bit, at first. Or maybe they were just too stunned to move.

Pearl’s voice cracked. “She’s-she’s… ‘Rina’s the best… the best producer, the best singer, the best…” she waved the mic vaguely. “Uh, y’know what I mean! Like... she's it! And, uh, maybe the only reason I’m here is ’cause of her.”

Marina whispered, “Pearl…”

Pearl blinked at her, as if waking up. Then she dropped the mic with a loud clang and stumbled down the steps.

The room was dead silent.

Marina rushed to catch her, then helped her down the stairs. Pearl leaned into her shoulder, mumbling, “You ok?”

Her mouth hung open, stunned. Was she ok? “Are you?”

“S’fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” said Marina, looping an arm around her waist. Her mind was racing. Every single person had just filmed that. It would be on social media in seconds. “Pearl, what was that?”

“He’s a—he’s a fuckin’ creep!” Pearl’s breath hitched, as she tried to wrench her way out of Marina’s grasp. She held tight, overpowering Pearl with her size. Even in the dark, ambient light of the venue, she could still tell that her cheeks were flushed an angry magenta. “He was talkin’ shit about you!”

“I know, I know. But we’re going to be in so much trouble . You—you…didn’t have to do that.”

Yes, Pearl going up on stage and defending her honour was probably one of Marina’s biggest fantasies. But not like this. 

“Don’t care,” Pearl said. “Was worth it.”

Not like this.

♪♪♪

The lights of the city seemed dull tonight, she noted, as downtown Inkopolis went flying by. Marina sighed, leaning her head against the window, fighting back tears. Nothing about tonight had gone the way she’d imagined. They’d lost the award, for one, but then…

Her brain kept flashing back to Pearl, on stage, cheeks flushed pink, defending her, calling her her girl. It should’ve been embarrassing, horrifying even. And yet… her chest fluttered when she remembered the way Pearl had said it. My girl. She knew it didn’t mean anything. Or, it wasn’t supposed to. But part of her still clung to it, warm and dangerous.

Her phone was buzzing constantly, notifications coming in at a rapid speed. Marina couldn’t bear the thought of looking. Notifications lit up her screen, one after the next.

A text from her friend Paul flashed across the screen, “heard abt the loss sorry :(“ 

And Eight: “WHAT HAPPENED???”

Her stomach plummeted. So people were already seeing it. Quickly, she turned on ‘Do Not Disturb,” and turned her phone face-down. That would be a later problem. Right now, she just wanted to get home, curl up in her bed, and sleep.

Tomorrow was about to be a very interesting day.

Chapter Text

The first thing Marina noticed when she woke up was how much her head ached. Had she even taken her makeup off?

She groaned, rolling over. Of course she hadn’t. 

The sun was streaming bright through her lacy curtains like a spotlight. She had slept in, somehow.

Last night was still fresh in her memory. The glitz of her dress, the gala dinner and champagne, their performance during the awards show, the loss of the only award they had been nominated for…

And not to mention…

Pearl, face flushed pink, her screeching voice echoing through a packed nightclub…

“Marina is our album. Is—is Off the Hook! And—and she made it sound like nothin’ else out there. Nothin’ else! That girl—my girl—knows her beats better than anything else!”

Marina blushed, and she pressed the heels of her wrists into her eyes. Why had Pearl said that? 

She had liked it, shamefully. Pearl’s lips wrapping around the words my girl, her powerful timbre stretching across the room the same way it did as when they performed together. What wasn’t there to like?

There was a thickness in her throat, and no matter how many times she attempted to swallow it down, it wouldn’t go away. 

She pushed her comforter off and sat up, staring blankly at the white wall in front of her. The only noise was the hum of traffic from outside, dissonant and loud.

Somehow, life goes on.

Today was a day off, so Marina would do what she’d planned to: work more on her bike. If her fingers were busy today, she may be able to get herself to forget the loss, the fight, the way Pearl had said her name up on stage, like it meant something…

She’d been meaning to fine-tune the torque control module. Right now the acceleration hit too hard in low gear, which was perfect for evasive maneuvers, but too unstable for street riding. The only problem was that all of her tools were currently in Pearl’s garage. Which meant she had to face her. Today. 

Would Pearl just deny anything happened? Pretend everything was normal? What would she say to her? Apologize? 

She’d figure it out on the way there. Maybe.

Hopping off of the bed, she wandered over to the attached bathroom, flicking the light on. It flooded the room, and she shielded her eyes, wincing. The tiles were cold on her feet.

She stared at her reflection. Her eyeshadow was smudged all over her undereyes, foundation crusty and dry. The bags under her eyes were visible even with concealer still on. Her tentacles spilled from the updo she hadn’t bothered to untangle, and her pyjama shirt hung off of her shoulders, wrinkled and damp with sweat. 

She reached for her cleansing balm, twisting it open. The scent of lavender and honey caught on her throat, sickly sweet. Slapping it onto her face, she groaned as her phone buzzed from the other room.

All night, she had resisted checking it. She didn’t know if she could stand seeing the criticism, the hate posts from Barnacle Boys fans, texts from Pearl, taking everything back, admitting that it was just the alcohol.

Aggressively, she rubbed the cleansing balm over her eyes, stripping off the turquoise eyeshadow. So many people had recorded, and the two of them had never had anything close to a scandal before. Not like this. 

Marina switched the faucet on, splashing cool water on her face. Marina’s brain may have been hyperfixated on the way Pearl spoke about her, but that was just because she had the most ridiculous crush on her. Stupid. Of course she’d twist it into something it wasn’t.

And the Barnacle Boys, who had one of the most die-hard, rabid fanbases the Inkadia music world had ever seen, the fans who had once doxxed another group for dethroning them at #1–Pearl had insulted them, ruthlessly. Publicly, and all in the name of Marina.

It had to be bad. Right? Social media algorithms thrived on events like these. 

Marina glanced towards her bedroom. Maybe she should…

No looking. It wouldn’t serve her. Her brain was already chugging at about a million miles per minute and she did not need to look at social media, or her messages, or whatever, because it would be better off to ignore it.

Then, her phone rang, a chiptune version of “Calamari Inkantation” cutting through the silence.

Marina dashed back into her bedroom, answering the call.

“Hello?” said Marina, her voice rough. “This is Marina Ida…”

“Finally, she picked up. Good morning, Ms. Ida,” The high-pitched, tight voice on the other end spoke. “This is Kathy, front-desk services at Tower Records. Your team has requested an emergency meeting here at HQ at 10:00 AM sharp. Attendance has been noted as mandatory. This is not a request.”

“Mandatory” made her stomach twist. Nothing good ever came from being summoned by the label. 

“Oh! …Okay,” she said. Quickly, she checked the time on her phone. 9:30. “Yes, yes, I…um, I’ll be there ASAP.”

“Alright, we’ll let them know. See you then.”

She hung up, dragging her hands across her eyes, then dashed towards her closet, grabbing the first t-shirt she could find.

Oh, no.

♪♪♪

The early-summer wind had bit through her jacket the entire drive to the HQ. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the what-ifs. The elevator ride up to the boardroom was even worse. Her phone kept vibrating in her leather tote, begging her to pick it up. By the time she got to HQ, her stomach was still churning.

The elevator doors opened.

Marina took a deep breath, starting her walk to their meeting room 564D. There were already people talking, and yes, that was definitely Pearl’s voice, brash and screeching, already echoing throughout the sterile, white hallways of HQ.

Marina walked into the boardroom, the door slamming behind her, too loud. Pearl, who had gone silent the second she’d walked in, was already there, seated at the too-long table. Her hair was up, golden eyes covered with big, black sunglasses, arms crossed over her chest. She knew exactly what that meant. Pearl was hungover and probably was not going to be able to cooperate professionally. 

Pearl turned her head just enough to look over the top of her sunglasses, the corners of her lips twitching up in a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Their publicist and a label representative were seated at the table as well. Both, at once? That never happened.

This was bad.

“Good…good morning,” said Marina, unable to move from the doorway.

“Have a seat, Marina.” Their publicist, Mika, a betta fish whose fins cascaded across the shoulders of her suit jacket, smiled at them. She moved fluidly as she smoothed down the papers in front of her. “We’ll start in just a moment.”

“Ok, thank you,” said Marina. She sat down next to Pearl, risking a glance. They both caught each other’s gaze. Pearl was gripping her glass of water a little too tightly.

Pearl looked away, abruptly clearing her throat.

“How are you?” said Marina

“Pretty fuckin’ terrible,” mumbled Pearl. “Hungover as shit, too. Have you… have you looked at the ‘net yet?”

Marina shook her head. “No… I… have you?”

“Nah,” Pearl took a sip of water, "Can't bring myself to.”

“Hello, you two,” the label rep, E.N, said, putting down his lunch. He was a blowfish, and Marina couldn’t help but notice the way his soft spines were popping up. He was stressed. “Ms. Houzuki, Ms. Ida, now that we have you both with us, we want to first start this meeting off by congratulating you two on your fantastic performance last night.”

Was that supposed to be comforting?

“And we want to offer condolences for the loss, we—”

“Yo, can we skip this suck-up act and just get to it?” said Pearl, her voice hoarse. “We all know what we’re really here for.” She rubbed her temple with one hand, her tone sharp even though her voice cracked halfway through.

Marina flinched, somewhat grateful. The tension in the room had subsided a little. Leave it to Pearl to say what they all were thinking.

“A-alright,” said E.N, the label rep, faltering. His suit jacket was threatening to unbutton, straining over his rotund figure. “Mika?”

All Marina could hear was static, her ears ringing. Her eyesight was blurry. The fluorescent lights were too bright. Pearl still hadn’t taken off her sunglasses.

“Hello, you two,” Mika said. 

“Lemme explain myself—” said Pearl, shooting up. “That chump was not only shitting all over Marina’s beats—He was being a creep! Straight up. You shoulda’ heard the way he was running his mouth about her! I wasn’t dragging him for fun, I was defending her!”

Marina’s face flushed, hot and tight in her cheeks. Pearl had stood up for her, of course she had. That was what Pearl did. She was fearless. She didn’t care who was in the room.

She looked at her lap, peeking at the other end of the table. Mika looked exhausted already. The label rep wheezed a laugh, fiddling with his phone. 

Mika frowned, raised her eyebrows, then cleared her throat, putting her slim, black wire glasses on. 

“It doesn’t matter what it was about. Right now, this will be how much of Inkadia sees you.” She slapped a magazine onto the table. A tabloid, Marina presumed.

Pearl, standing on the stage, screaming into the mic, the words: “HEIRESS TURNED IDOL: PEARL HOUZUKI’S DRUNKEN MELTDOWN?”

“Pearl,” Mika’s voice was smooth, but colder than Marina had ever heard it. “You’re lucky we were able to get you out of legal trouble. You jumped up onto the stage, insulted one of the biggest groups in music right now, and broke their equipment. Last night’s outburst was a public embarrassment for you, and destabilized the Off the Hook brand. Tower Records is re-evaluating your future viability as a group.”

They were both silent.

“Now, let’s watch from the public’s point of view, shall we?” said Mika, grabbing a remote off of the desk. She eyed the others in the room. Marina couldn’t decipher the look on her face. “E.N, would you get the blinds for me?”

Oh, no…

“Yep, yep, of course,” The label rep mumbled, reaching behind him.

If there was anything Marina did not ever want to experience again, it was this. The lights shut off, the projector opened, and the video played.

Watching Pearl’s meltdown again was almost worse than being there for it. Pearl’s screeching voice echoed off the boardroom walls, taunting her. The chuckles from the crowd stung even more this time. 

She couldn’t even look at the screen, so she looked to Pearl, who was watching intently, her lips pressed into a tight line as she fidgeted with her chunky rings, leg bouncing underneath the table. Pearl flinched when the mic feedback shrieked. Her brows furrowed at the way her own voice cracked, how her posture swayed.

Marina winced when she started to berate the Barnacle Boys. But the look of passion when she talked about Off the Hook, about Marina, was undeniable. 

The video ended with Pearl stumbling off the stage, into Marina’s arms.

Not very subtle.

“Oh my cod,” muttered Pearl, barely audible. She was visibly sweating, and Marina could see that the flush on her cheeks continued down her neck, down into her designer hoodie. “That’s what I did? I sound—” she cut off. “Shit. Shit.”

Marina couldn’t speak. 

Mika started, cocking her head, her fins catching the light of the projector. “I don’t know if you two have seen it yet, but the members of the Barnacle Boys did an interview this morning. Pearl, they painted you as an angry, bitter, sloppy drunk who couldn’t accept a loss. It is not good.”

“I—I was drunk!” said Pearl. “I, uh, I didn’t mean any of it—I mean, yeah, I don’t think the Barnacle Bros—whatever their names are—are any good, but—can’t you just tell everyone that I was, like, drunk, and that I—like I said, I didn’t mean any of it?”

“Let me talk, please. We have many upcoming contracts scheduled for you two, for Off the Hook, that could be endangered. This includes your summer festival tour, licensing deals, a potential crossover with Tentatek’s summer line that Mr. Houzuki was able to negotiate with—”

The words blurred together. Contracts, licensing, their summer festival tour…

“But…” started Mika. 

“Here we go…” mumbled Pearl, crossing her legs.

“...We have an out.”

“W-what?” said Marina, her voice shaking. Pearl sat up, suddenly alert.

“You kiddin’ me?”

“To our shock, the fan response has been surprisingly… positive,” said Mika. 

Marina blinked. That wasn’t what she had expected to hear. 

“High engagement, strong sentiment metrics, trending across multiple platforms.” Mika stood up, her heels clacking on the shiny tile floor. She commanded the room effortlessly. “Which is why we’re proposing a controlled narrative shift. One that leans into what the public already thinks is true.”

Oh no. She knew that tone. Whatever Mika was about to say next, it wasn’t going to be optional.

“Which is you two. Together.”

“We are together, lady,” said Pearl. “We’re a band.”

Mika shook her head, fins swirling around her shoulders. “No, no, not like that. Neither of you have looked at social media yet?”

They both shook their heads. 

“You see, the public came to some different conclusions, following last night.”

“Like…like what?” Pearl’s voice was tense. 

“After Pearl’s… outburst, fan speculation absolutely exploded. Edits, clips, posts, you two are young, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

Oh.

Pearl scoffed. “Fan speculation? The shell are you on about?”

Mika sighed, sliding the tablet over to their end of the table. “They think you’re dating. Or, more specifically… that last night was your way of publicly declaring your love for each other.”

The room was silent. The fluorescent lights buzzed.

“What?!” said the two of them in unison. Marina’s hearts skipped a beat. 

“My love?” Pearl laughed, strained. “Nah, nah, I—I was—that was not, I was—” She waved a hand, shaking her head rapidly. 

“We aren’t,” insisted Marina. The words almost hurt to say. “In—in love.” 

“Of course not!” said Mika.

“But they think you are,” The label rep mumbled, wiping soy sauce off of his tie with the corner of a legal pad.

Marina didn’t know what to think. In fact, she found that she could barely even think at all.

The tablet screen lit up with a tidal wave of social media posts, all from the last eight hours, each with hundreds of thousands of likes.

omg pearl is insane she literally just confirmed pearlina

MY GIRL????? This is the cutest thing i have ever seen in my life

i know what they are.

THE ALLEGATIONS WERE CORRECT?????????

I KNEW those lyrics were romantic

Ok guys whens the wedding??? 

One fan had posted a whole thread:

🧵 everything pearl’s done that proves she’s in love with marina (a thread nobody asked for but i’m doing anyway)

Thumbnail after thumbnail sped by.

[“Last Night Confirmed Pearlina and Here’s Why” – 2.3M views]
[“Top 10 Times Pearl Was Down BAD for Marina” – 58k likes]
[“pearl’s lesbian meltdown in 4k <3” – reposted 100k times]

Fan edits to “Into the Light” that had millions of views. Zoom-ins. Heart emojis.

Marina’s eyes caught on a screenshot of Pearl mid-rant, cheeks flushed pink, pointing directly at Marina. look at them 💗💚#pearlina, the post above it said.

She stared at the photo, eyes flicking from Pearl, to herself, then back. The expression on her face was telling, too telling. She looked besotted yet mortified, eyebrows stretched up as she stood frozen. Why hadn't she stopped her?  

Marina glanced over at Pearl. She didn’t know what she was expecting—a smirk, maybe—but Pearl was frozen, mouth open, eyes fixated on the photo. She was staring at it like she didn’t even recognize herself. It was an expression Marina had never seen on her face before. She looked… scared, almost, and there was a pink flush creeping up her ears. 

Did the idea of people thinking they were together really bother her that much?

“This is so stupid,” said Pearl. “It’s not even like that. I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t say anything. They’re just makin’ shit up. This was not what that was about!”

“You called her your girl,” their label rep added, around a mouthful of sushi. “That kind of language tests well with younger demographics.”

Marina slid down in her seat. This could not be happening. 

“Yeah, like—my girl as in my homegirl,” Pearl insisted. “Not my girlfriend!” 

Something about that phrasing left a strange ache in Marina’s chest.

“I was—yo, I don’t even remember half of that!” Pearl was tugging on the too-long sleeves of her oversized hoodie. Her voice was rising now, high and screechy, cracking at the edges. “I didn’t mean for everyone to—Cod, they’re gonna think I’m like—” 

She stopped herself, chest heaving, and stared at the table.

“Back on topic, please.” Mika stood up, opening the blinds again. 

“So… we apologize?” Marina was somehow able to scrounge up the urge to speak even after seeing all of that. “Say we’re sorry, and this was all just a big misunderstanding, and we can clear everything up. Including this…romantic stuff.”

“Oooor, we just tell everyone how much of a dick that loser was bein’ and that I was just defending Marina and be done with it!” Pearl stomped a foot to the floor. “There, did your jobs for ya.”

“Pearl, don't,” hissed Marina. Things were already bad enough.

“Let me explain,” said Mika. "While an apology could be issued, doing so would admit fault, which fans are currently not demanding, and would shift attention back onto the outburst, which we want to avoid. We would risk losing any of the momentum and goodwill Off the Hook currently has.” 

“Y’know what? I still don't get what you're asking,” said Pearl.

The label rep groaned. “Do we really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes, please,” said Marina.

“No shit,” said Pearl.

The only sound in the room was the deafening hum of the projector fan.

“We want you two to date.”

“Wait, WHAT?! ” Pearl's mouth was gaping, her arms finally uncrossed. 

Marina's stomach flipped.

Date? Like, romantically? Like, date-date? Like, everything she’d ever imagined since the day her and Pearl had locked eyes and she’d had this weird feeling in her gut that—in the moment, she hadn’t understood, but after years of getting to know her, and writing music with her and—being with her—it finally made sense?

That kind of date?

“It would only be for a few months, as of now,” the label rep said.

“We have a contract prepared for you,” Mika said, pulling a stack of paper out of her briefcase. “This para-romantic angle really is the best way forward.”

Pearl flipped her sunglasses onto her head, leaned forward and slammed her hands onto the table.“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She made a show of looking around the room. “This is a joke, right? You’re faking us out?”

Marina’s head was spinning again. This couldn’t be happening. How was this happening? 

Mika sighed, adjusting her glasses.

“Look. Let me be blunt, since you two hate sugarcoating. Last night could’ve sunk you.”

She clicked the pen she’d just pulled from her blazer.

“You hijacked the stage, insulted the winners, and turned what was supposed to be a classy event into—into tabloid fuel. Do you know how expensive this could be to recover from? After the initial event and Barnacle Boys interview, Tower Records has frozen your bonus and postponed your international promo cycle. Sponsors are jittery, and the festival tour? It’s in jeopardy.” 

She gestured toward the tablet again.

“But then there was this, this insane viral response. You two trended in three regions. Hashtags, mashups, fanart, people aren’t mad, not at all. They don’t care that you insulted the Barnacle Boys, they’re obsessed with you . They love the idea of this, of a romance.” 

Pearl scoffed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, 'cause they weren’t the ones who had to listen to that loser talk trash about Marina—”

“Which no one outside that afterparty knows, Pearl,” Mika cut in. “That’s not what the narrative is.”

She leaned forward, deadly serious now. “If we pivot to the love story angle, fast, we can turn that narrative into a full-blown rebrand. Boost your metrics, strengthen fan engagement, maybe even open new markets. You may have lost the award last might, but with this strategy? You win .”

“Win?!” Pearl snapped. “You mean we lie. To our fans. ”

Mika held up the contract.

“While this may seem like a punishment, I assure you, it’s not. Trust me, you’re not the only PR couple in this industry. You two agree to a limited-term public relationship. Keep things PG, post a few photos, do some promo, attend a few key events together…write a love song.”

Her eyes flicked between them.

“Of course, you can say no. But if you do, we lose control of this story. And if we lose this story… Off the Hook might not recover.”

Oh my cod.

“What do you ladies think?”

“I think it’s fuckin’ stupid,” muttered Pearl. She scoffed, standing up. “This is bullshit. I ain’t faking anything.” She turned to Marina. “You want out, Marina? I’ll just buy us out. What’s the number? We’ll pay whatever it takes.”

Marina felt light-headed. Pearl would really do that for them?

Mika didn’t flinch, cocking her head. “You think it’s that simple?”  She tapped the contract in front of her. “Pearl, you and Marina signed with us the second Off the Hook went big. That contract gives us ownership of your music, branding, likeness and future commercial output under the Off the Hook name. Your masters? Ours. Your stage names? Ours. Even your image rights, your literal faces, are licensed to this company.”

“That’s—” Pearl’s mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again. “I’ve got lawyers, y'know. Good ones. You don’t think I could get us outta that?”

Mika hummed, gently placing the contracts onto the table. “With enough time and money, maybe. But with what you did last night, not before your career flatlines, and before we tank your tour, upcoming single, and entire brand.” She took a few steps closer to them, her bright-red lips stretched in an unnerving smile. “Sure, you could try to leave. But Off the Hook would not be allowed to leave with you. And of course, Marina’s contract doesn’t let her go either.”

Marina flinched. Pearl was finally rendered speechless.

This was insane. This was too much. Marina’s hearts were thumping like a bassline in her chest, and she was hot all over, her tentacles curled up onto her cheeks. This was her worst fear and her dream come true all at once. She couldn’t pretend to date Pearl. 

Not when she… 

But…if Off the Hook was forced to break up? If she lost Pearl as a creative partner forever?

That would be even worse.

Marina swallowed around the knot in her throat. “How…for how long?” she spoke, finally.

Mika smiled, too large and bright against the dark grey of her skin. “Just from now through the length of the tour. Three months, until contract re-negotiation, and then we can see where we’re at.”

Three months. 

“We ain’t doin’ it,” said Pearl. “We ain’t gonna just, lie to our fans like this! There’s gotta be some other way to figure this shit out!”

Marina couldn’t speak, the thought of dating Pearl whirling around in her brain.

Three months of holding Pearl’s hand for cameras. Of whatever their label wanted them to do to sell it.

Three months of pretending it meant nothing.

But maybe… maybe that was the only way to keep what they had. There was no way Marina could go on without Off the Hook. 

She took a shaky breath. “We’ll do it.”

Pearl whirled around to look at her, eyes blown wide. “Marina, what?”

“It’s…” Marina had to choose her words carefully. “It’s the easiest way out, right?”

Mika nodded. “The best way.”

Pearl was still staring at her, Marina could feel her eyes boring into the side of her head. Marina couldn’t look at her.

“...You serious?” said Pearl, softer this time. For her.

She still sounded like she didn’t believe her. Marina nodded, looking at her lap, willing her hands to stop trembling.

Mika clapped her hands together. “Great. Perfect! Let’s get this signed so we can start as soon as possible. E.N, would you prep the documents? The sooner we get this locked in, the better.”

The label rep nodded, putting his lunch down. Papers shuffled, heels clacked, voices murmured.

“You know we don’t have to do this, ‘Rina,” said Pearl. “There’s gotta be some other—”

“It’s ok,” Marina said, finally drawing her gaze up to look Pearl in the eye. Her golden eyes glimmered with the makings of rage, her brows pinched together. “It’s just three--” her voice cracked. “...It’s just for  three months.”

“You really think you can handle it?” Concern coloured Pearl's normally nonchalant tone.

Marina nodded, again, more certain this time. “I…I would do anything for Off the Hook.”

I would do anything for you.

Pearl searched her eyes. Marina didn't quite know what she was looking for. “You sure?”

“Yes, Pearl,” she said. A lie. It tasted bitter in her mouth. She smiled around it. “I’m sure.”

Pearl wouldn’t look away from her, even as she settled back into her chair. She took a long time to respond. Then she blew out a shaky breath.

“If you’re in… I’m in.”

“There’s a lot of legalese, obviously,” Mika said as she slid two folders across the table. “But the essential terms are rather simple: Three months, limited appearances, a controlled narrative.” She smiled, a little too wide to be comforting. “You’ll get the full version digitally, but this is the contract. Sign here, and it’s active as of today.”

That didn’t seem right.

“Wait, we’re signing it now?” Marina’s voice wavered, her tentacles curling over her shoulders. She and Pearl locked eyes, and she saw her own fear mirrored back.

“Yes,” the label rep said, handing pens to both of them. “This has to launch today if we want to be able to control the narrative. We can’t afford yet another news cycle without a response, otherwise this small sliver of hope will dwindle down into nothing.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Pearl muttered.

“You’ll have time to go through the rest on your own, and it has been sent to your legal team as well, who’ve already okay’ed it,” Mika added, as if that somehow made everything better. “We can tell that the two of you have had a rough few hours. Go home. Trust me, we’re doing you a favour.”

Marina reached for the file placed in front of her, opening it to see that they had already been flipped to the signature page.

Signed:

Houzuki, Pearl (Party A)

_________________________________

Ida, Marina (Party A)

_________________________________

Marina picked up the pen, and with no hesitation--signed her name. 

Chapter Text

Marina’s place was about ten minutes away from HQ, so she’d invited Pearl over so they could talk about the whole…situation while not under the watchful eyes of Tower Records execs. 

The elevator ride had been quiet, save for Pearl’s stubby fingers tapping her phone screen as she scrolled. Her nails were bitten down. Pearl had glanced up, towards Marina, and her hearts had skipped. Quickly, Marina had snapped her gaze back to the stainless steel of the elevator doors. She had to stop staring. Things were already strange enough.

They’d signed the contract. For three months, to the entire world, they would be dating. By all intents and purposes, Pearl Houzuki was now her girlfriend.

Those words should’ve had her feeling elated, but this was not how Marina had imagined this going down.

She’d pictured a hundred better ways: giving Pearl a hand-written love letter, one of them confessing during a late-night in their recording studio, a kiss in the back of their trailer after a concert…each very romantic, very… well, authentic.

Finally, Marina opened the door, holding it for Pearl. 

“Come in,” she said out of habit. Pearl didn’t need an invitation. 

Pearl was still standing awkwardly in the doorway, a stubby hand curling around the doorframe. She looked so small in her oversized hoodie, her chunky, scuffed boots that she only ever wore when she was having a bad day. It had been a while since Marina had seen those.

Marina slipped off her sandals, setting her bag down by the shoe rack, and Pearl kicked off the aforementioned boots, not bothering to put them on the wire shoe rack. Marina rolled her eyes.

Pearl wandered aimlessly into the kitchen, hopping up onto her kitchen counter. Marina noticed the slouch in her spine.

Her condo was dim, save for the jellyfish lamp in the front hallway that cast a sickly green tinge to the walls. Picking up Pearl’s boots from the floor, she placed them onto an empty space on the shoe rack.  They looked tiny next to the rows of Marina’s own shoes. 

Marina padded into the kitchen. Maybe eating something would make her feel better.

Her kitchen smelled like the grilled cheese she’d burnt the other night, mixed with her lavender dish soap. Delicious, she thought.

Stomach growling, she moved towards the fridge, and was met with polaroids of her and Pearl—smiling, hugging backstage after the Cake vs. Ice Cream Splatfest—and one of Pearl by herself, dead-tired after a long night at the studio, grinning at her lazily. Her stomach was churning. Nope. Nevermind. 

There was no way she could eat right now.

“She’s-she’s… ‘Rina’s the best… the best producer, the best singer, the best—”

Marina froze. That was Pearl’s voice. From the afterparty, slurred and shrill and confident.

“Shit! Shit, sorry!”

Marina whirled around to see her scrambling to turn the volume down on her phone, her face pink. If Marina hadn’t been so stressed out, she might have found it endearing.

“Wasn’t on purpose!” exclaimed Pearl, her face scrunched up. “Autoplay, uh, thing. Sorry.”

“Okay,” said Marina, turning back to her cupboards to pull out a glass. She allowed herself to spiral. Had Pearl spent the whole ride watching that video on repeat? The thought bounced around in her head as she moved towards the sink to fill her glass with water.

What did that mean? Was Pearl obsessed with her image, how she had made herself look last night? Her comebacks against the Barnacle Boys? Their loss?

Or was she obsessed with the same two words Marina was, my girl, repeating over and over in her head? Obsessed with the look on Marina’s face at the end of the clip, the way she caught her, wrapping her arm around her waist?

The sound of the water coming out of the faucet hitting the stainless steel of the kitchen sink was the only reprieve from the silence. Marina swallowed. Things never were this… awkward between the two of them, even after they fought.

Maybe it would all be easier if she told Pearl the truth of her feelings. Pearl would reciprocate, they would fall in love for real, and wouldn’t have to fake anything. Or maybe Pearl would reject her, it would ruin everything , and make their situation more uncomfortable.

Pearl growled behind her. She muttered something like “I’m done with this,” and then—

“There is no way they’re gonna make us do this,” said Pearl breaking the silence. “You want me to get us out of it? I know what they said, about the contract and stuff,  but I can ask my dad, and I don’t usually pull that card, but, like—This social media shit? These people thinkin’ they can speculate on our lives? Can you believe this?”

Marina didn’t say anything. She leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed over her chest. 

“...Marina?” Her golden eyes skirted across her face, and her expression softened. 

Marina hated when she did that. 

“Mmm-hmm?”

Pearl shifted awkwardly on the counter, expression sheepish. Marina’s stomach twisted. “You wanna…like, talk now , or?”

Marina should have said yes. Smiled, nodded her head. But she was running on practically no sleep, and she’d just had her life’s work threatened to be taken away from her, and if she said the wrong thing now, she could put their friendship and Off the Hook in danger. She had built this life with Pearl, had finally pursued something because she wanted to, and now? 

Whether she got to keep it depended on how well she faked being in love with the girl she was actually in love with.

She couldn’t breathe right. Her chest was too tight. Her throat burned, but not from crying. She was cracking.

So instead, she said this:

“About what?” said Marina, too forceful. She winced at her own tone, at the way Pearl flinched back. “What is there to talk about? We signed the contract. It’s done. We can’t go back.” Her throat tightened, her voice cracking. Her chest heaved. 

Silence. Pearl’s shoulders went stick-straight. She looked like she had just been slapped. Cod, Marina had never wanted to take her words back so desperately.

“Fuck,” Pearl hissed, shoulders slumping. She didn’t say anything else, her stare fixed on the floor.

Marina stepped back, guilt blooming in her chest as she looked at her, so small, and—was she crying? It took all her self-restraint not to run up to her and engulf her in a hug, smell her musky perfume, bury her face in her fleece hoodie. 

“I…” Marina started, words stuck between her teeth.“Pearl, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re right." Her hands squeezed the counter.

Pearl sniffled. The sound felt like leaning into an amp that suddenly shorted out.

“No, it’s not,” said Marina, finally. “Can we… talk in the living room? Please?”

Pearl jumped off the counter, and they both made their way over. Marina pulled open her curtains, and the daylight flooded in. Pearl made herself at home on Marina’s white leather couch, grabbing a silver pillow to place on her lap. The left corner, like always. Marina sat on the other end, crossing her legs.

Marina opened her mouth to speak, but Pearl put a hand up.

“I’ll start.” Pearl leaned back onto the armrest, willing to go first. No surprises there. Pearl had always been braver than her—she always knew what to say.

After a minute, Pearl exhaled through her nose. “Cod, Marina, I’m really sorry I got us into this. “ 

“It’s fine,” said Marina. “It wasn’t you--”

“No,” Pearl cut her off, sitting up straighter. “It was me. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just… saw red. I was pissed, and I didn’t think about you. You coulda’ handled it yourself. ”

Of course she could have. If Pearl hadn’t swooped in, Marina would’ve found a way to duck out and get lost in the crowd again, the purple-pink lights once again obscuring her from anyone looking for her. But…

“It’s ok. You were doing what you thought was the right thing…” Marina rubbed her fingers together. “I just… please don’t do anything like that again. I don’t want you to burn down everything because of me.”

Pearl cocked a brow, looking offended. “You really think I’d blow all this up for just anyone?”

Marina looked away, heat rushing to her face. Why did she have to say things like that, like they didn’t mean anything? Don’t answer that. Do not answer that, Ida.

“Yes! I mean—no! But—well, I appreciated it, at first, but…”

“Getting up on the stage was a lil’ too much for ya?” Pearl cocked a brow. 

Marina shook her head. “Pearl…”

“Don’t mince words, ‘Rina. I can take it. I got us into some deep shit. I feel so bad.”

Pearl hadn’t been able to admit she messed up after she had once nearly set her parents kitchen on fire in an attempt to boil water. 

“I should’ve tried harder to pull you back,” said Marina, softly. “Even if you wouldn’t have listened.”

“Pfft, ain’t no way that was happening,” said Pearl. “You know me, don’t you?”

Marina laughed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “Yeah…”

The two of them stared at each other for a minute, and it almost was like none of this had happened—losing the award, Pearl’s meltdown, the contract.

Marina’s phone buzzed on the table, and they both jumped away.

Pearl chuckled. It was strained, but the sound of it still made Marina forget to breathe.“I can’t believe all of Inkadia thinks we’re together .”

“I know,” said Marina. “Crazy, right? Where’d they get that from?”

“Yo, I dunno,” Pearl was either missing Marina’s sarcasm or ignoring it, “But I’ve seen at least a hundred fan edits of the video from last night…They’re fuckin’ slowing down the clip, and like, analyzing our body language frame by frame to ‘prove’ we’re actually together.” 

“I haven’t been able to look at any,” Marina said. That was dangerous territory. If Marina watched that video one more time, it might have been her making the edits.

“Don’t,” warned Pearl. “I started, and now I can’t stop.”

“I could tell,” said Marina. The kitchen moment had made that obvious.

Pearl mashed her lips together. “They love us, y’know?” she said. “Like, as an us. They think we’re the real deal.”

“Yeah,” said Marina. “And now we have to be that for them.”

Because if they didn’t, there would no longer be a ‘we.’

Pearl blew out a breath. “Don’t remind me.” She groaned, putting her face in her hands. “Ugh, I feel like such a dumbass. Why did I do that?”

“You didn’t mean to,” Marina offered Pearl a small smile.

Pearl smiled back, tight. “Thanks.”

“We’ll get through it,” said Marina.

Pearl leaned back onto the couch, crossing her legs. “Bet.”

The sound of traffic buzzed from downtown, somehow louder than the static in Marina’s head, sirens echoing as they drove off down the busy street in front of Marina’s building.

“I can’t believe they didn’t even let us read the contract,” Pearl muttered. “Sure, they said our lawyers checked it over, yeah. But we didn’t. Who knows what’s in there?” She crossed her arms, frowning. “I shoulda’ forced ‘em to read it for us first.”

“You were overwhelmed,” Marina stopped herself from touching her shoulder. “We both were. We weren’t thinking clearly.”

“I ain’t gonna be thinking clearly for three months.”

Pearl let the words hang, then stood up. “Lemme go grab somethin’ to eat, then we can—ugh—read the contract. Be back in a minute. You want anything?”

Marina shook her head. Pearl nodded, taking off towards the kitchen. Marina flopped back onto the couch, groaning. Her phone rested on the coffee table. Should she? She looked over at the kitchen, where Pearl was currently rummaging through her cupboard, then over to her phone again. 

She grabbed it, a notification from Squitter popping up on her lockscreen. “@DJ_Hyperfresh @DJ_Hyperfresh @DJ_Hyperfresh ARE YOU AND PEARL TOGETHER???????? YES OR YES??? I streamed signal bloom 50 times today btw”

“Is nasty majesty ABOUT PEARL????”

Oh, it was bad.

Swiping right on the notification, she opened the app. Her feed was unsurprisingly filled with thousands of posts in the same vein.

A photo of the two of them a few years ago in the newsroom, staring at each other during the announcement of a Splatfest, posted by somebody named @marinahouzuki…

(Like that alone didn’t have all the ink in her body rushing to her face…)

marina ida and pearl houzuki invented lesbianism you heard it here first

The replies were almost worse:

How did we not know???

They are actually the hottest couple ever idgaf what anyone else thinks

THEY GAY ASF 💀

Well… that last one wasn’t wrong. In a way.

But the fact that these were the expectations they had to satisfy in order to keep Off the Hook intact? Hottest Couple? Invented lesbianism?

“Ayo, you live like this?” called Pearl, from the kitchen. “There’s nothin’ in here!”

Marina huffed, hand tightening on her phone. “I’ve been busy!”

She went to read more, but then Pearl’s laugh, high and brash, echoed out from the kitchen, and Marina couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

She hovered over a video titled “marina & pearl: it’s always been you 💕 (slow burn ver),” thumbnail frozen on her face at the afterparty. 

Then, Pearl walked back into the living room, and Marina slammed her phone into her lap like it was coated with enemy ink. 

“Thought I told ya to not do that.

“You left this on the counter,” said Pearl, handing her the glass of water. “Earlier.”

Marina reached to grab it from her. Their fingers brushed. She tried not to think about the fans. “Thanks.”

“I’m ordering us something. You got literally no food in your fridge, and we need fuel before readin’ this nightmare.”

Marina toyed with the collar of her gray Squid Sisters tee. “I guess,” she said.

Pulling out her phone, Pearl kicked her feet up onto the couch. “Whaddya want? Burgers, salads, noodles?”

The idea of the chili-oil noodles, hot and fresh from her favourite restaurant, a local place down by Arowana Mall, had her mouth watering. Her stomach growled, despite the pit that was growing bigger every second. 

“...Noodles.”

Pearl smirked knowingly. “The place we always order from?”

♪♪♪

About an hour later, takeout containers now open and half-finished on the coffee table, Marina was curled into the corner of her couch, mentally preparing for war.

Pearl wiped her fingers on a napkin, pulled out her phone, and cleared her throat.

“Aight,” said Pearl, stretching her legs out. “Let’s finally read what we signed.” 

She pulled the document up on her phone. “Whoa, this is, like… a lotta words.” Pearl squinted, sneering. “And the font is so small…”

Marina laughed. “I’ve been telling you that you need glasses, too.” She reached for the phone, adjusting her own glasses. “Want me to read?” 

“Nah, nah, it’s good, we’re at your place, I’ll just, like, zoom in.”

“Okay…” Marina teased. Eating together had broken up some of the tension. 

Pearl kept scrolling and scrolling, until… “Okay, here we go.”

Pearl put on the deep voice she always did when making fun of execs.“Section One: Relationship Image Maintenance--hey!” Marina snatched the phone out of her hand.

“Pearl, this is serious,” said Marina, wiping Pearl’s greasy phone off on her sweatpants. Off the Hook hung in the balance on whether they followed these terms to the fullest extent or not. And Marina could not lose Off the Hook. “I’ll read.”

Pouting, Pearl tucked herself into her corner. “Fine.”

Clearing her throat, Marina began to read. 

“Section One: Relationship Image Maintenance. Parties agree to conduct themselves as if engaged in a para-romantic relationship across all relevant media, including but not limited to: Inkstagram, Squitter, livestreams, and promotional appearances.”

The air in the room was already heavier. This was weird.

“Cool, cool, ‘cause that’s just normal ,” said Pearl, spinning one of her chunky rings around her finger. Marina faked a laugh, reaching for her glass on the table.

“They make it sound so simple,” she raised her glass to her lips, letting the cool water drip down her throat. Anything to stall. Pearl snorted. 

Marina scrolled past a bunch of legal terms to get to the meat of the contract.

“Ok, Section Two: Physical Affection Guidelines.” 

“Oh, great,” Marina murmured. Could they go back in time to a few days ago, before all of this had happened and not attend the awards ceremony?  Because now that they had, Marina had to read things like Physical Affection Guidelines, and para-romantic relationship. 

“Parties agree to engage in moderate, publicly appropriate affection including hand-holding, hugging, proximity, and/or light touches as determined by promotional needs. Kissing—” 

Marina froze. They wanted them to kiss? Obviously it made sense, because they were supposed to be in a relationship. It was logical. People who were dating—who were together— kissed.

And Pearl and her were together. 

So they would kiss. Like it meant nothing. Her teal-tipped fingers twitched around Pearl’s phone.

“Uh…kissing,” she cleared her throat, “kissing shall be limited to scripted or choreographed appearances, and must be approved by PR ahead of time.” 

“Yo, this is weird,” Pearl said, scratching her neck. “Never thought I’d be gettin’ my smooching pre-planned by the label.” Her eyes flicked to Marina and away.

“Yeah,” Marina said, feeling like she was about to melt into her couch.  “That’s…” 

She would get to cup Pearl’s face in her hands, Pearl’s curled around her waist, hear her breath hitch, watch her get closer, closer, closer as her own eyes fluttered shut, feel the soft brush of her lips, her peachy gloss sticky yet sweet…

The thought made her dizzy. Marina blinked, scolding herself. It was just a clause . 

“I—I mean, it’s not like we’re not already touchy,” Pearl said, skidding Marina’s ill-advised fantasy to a halt. “Just—just gotta dial it up a bit.” 

A bit? A lot. Yes, they hugged. Yes, they cuddled on the couch in the studio after a late night, sometimes. Kissing was different. Kissing was explicitly, unquestionably romantic.

And Marina had never really kissed anyone before. Not in the way she wanted to kiss Pearl.

“Yeah. T–totally,” Marina replied. Was she floating? Just been splatted? Because currently it felt like she was five feet up in the air, limbs weightless, waiting for the mercy of the respawn disc. 

Their eyes met, and Marina quickly looked down at the screen again.

But that clause—She still couldn’t shake it.

“Actually—” started Marina, putting Pearl’s bedazzled phone on her lap. “Should we, uh... go over the touching stuff?” Marina sucked in a breath, steadying herself before she spoke. “I need to know…what’s ok and what’s not. Physically. And romantically. I…I don’t want this to get confusing, you know?”

 This was an important conversation, one that could make or break their working relationship and their friendship. 

“Oh,” said Pearl, eyes widening. “Yeah, yeah, totally. Good idea.”

“And I don’t want it to mess up what we already have,” she continued. “I don’t know what I would do if all of this was ruined because of—”

“Hold up—you think this is gonna mess with us? ” Pearl put her hands out in front of her. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“How can it not?” Marina leaned forwards. “Everything is going to be different now, the way people see us...”

“Aw, hey, don’t freak out,” said Pearl. “Marina, you’re my best friend. Nothing is gonna change that. Not even this.”

Marina tried her best to smile at that. Best friends. It’s what they were to each other, wasn’t it? It should have been enough for her. It was enough for her. “I… I don’t want to hurt you, or go too far…”

“Me neither.” Pearl switched her position so she was sitting up, facing Marina directly. Marina had to tilt her head down to look her in the eye. “We can check in with each other, yeah? If anything gets weird.”

“Yeah,” said Marina. “I would like that.” Her tentacles curled up, coiling themselves around her arms. She saw Pearl’s gaze dip down, following the action. “I’m…worried, though.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Pearl drummed her fingers on her thigh. “Ya’ know you can tell me anything.”

Marina sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face.“I’m worried that I won’t be good enough,” she said. “At… this. You know what you’re doing, but I don’t, and…” she swallowed, debating if she should say this next part.

 Well, she’d already pretty much jumped off the deep end starting this conversation in the first place. “I—I know it’s not real. Obviously, right? But, I… want…”

Her voice caught.

To be good enough for you.

That was way too much.

 “ …To do this right.”

Marina blushed, looking away from Pearl.

“For the fans, and the label. Obviously.”

Liar, liar, liar , her brain chanted, as she forced herself to meet Pearl’s eyes again.

Pearl shook her head rapidly. “Hey, where’s all this comin’ from?”

“Sorry,” Marina cupped her face in her hands. “Ignore me. It’s so stupid. I don’t want to make you look bad.”

“Nah, it’s not stupid,” Pearl’s voice was gentler now. “It’ll be fine. You’re just overthinking like you always do.” She nudged Marina’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Go with the flow. You and me, yeah?”

Ugh. Why did she have to be so amazing?

“Thanks, that helps,” said Marina.

Pearl smirked, cocking her head. “I know. I’m a genius.”

Marina rolled her eyes.

“Want me to take it from here?” Pearl reached for her phone.

“Sure,” said Marina. “But no voices.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s see what we’re gettin’ roped into next.” 

The light from outside was quickly dimming, as the sun set. Grabbing her phone, Pearl scootched closer so Marina could read the screen as she did. “Uh, Section Three…Story Consistency Clause. Basically it says we need to keep our stories straight. They got a ‘shared history document’ in here for us to read.”

“Read it,” said Marina. What kind of story had their label come up with for them? 

“Hold up,” said Pearl. “Lemme just…”

“When clients are prompted with the question of their shared romantic history, answers MUST—Jeez, the must is capitalized and underlined—be contained to what is detailed in this document.”

Pearl scanned the document silently.

“What? What does it say?” asked Marina.

“You and I got together two months ago, after the release party for our album, after years of ‘mutual yearning.” Pearl scoffed. “Bullshit,” she muttered under her breath. “I took you up to the roof and—” she snorted.

“What?” Marina moved from her spot on the couch to lean in closer to Pearl’s phone.

“I confessed to you with a ‘romantically-coded freestyle rap verse.”

Marina thought. Ever since she had known her, Pearl had written a verse to send to Marina on her birthday, every single year. She very much looked forward to it. “That… does sound like you.” 

“Psshht. No, it does not!” Pearl shook her head. “I would never do somethin’ that corny.”

She shot Pearl a look.

“What? I wouldn’t!”

“OK…” said Marina, chuckling. 

“Are you sayin’ you think I would actually do that?”

“Just keep going.”

“No, no, now you have to tell me.”

“You know what my answer is,” said Marina.

“So what?” Pearl stood up, pointing directly at her. Her jaw was dropped in mock-offense. “You comin’ for my bars?”

“All I’m saying is that you would definitely–”

“You want me to give you a lil’— Yo, I’m your fake boo, and I look cute too?”

“No, no! Stop it, please!”

Pearl struck a pose, using her phone as a mic-stand in. Marina hid her face in the throw pillow on her lap. “Shawties all over my turf—but girl, I be choosin’ you?”

Marina groaned into the pillow, guiltily flattered. Why had that made her stomach flutter? 

“Shiiit,” said Pearl. “That’s a good line.” She plopped back onto the couch. “Write that down, we can use it!”

“Tell me why I asked you to be in a band with me?”

“You love it.” Pearl winked. “Let’s move on.”

“Thank you,” Marina said. She should have known better than to bring that up.

♪♪♪

“Alriiight, Section Ten: Promotional Music Requirements,” read Pearl, voice slowing. “Parties shall co-write and release a musical single with romantic themes to debut at the first festival appearance. Ugh.”

Well, the half-completed demos on Marina’s secret external hard drive would come in handy now. 

“Is that not in a month? ” she said. They’d written songs that quickly before, but never had to perform them so soon.

“Guess they want us crunchin’,” muttered Pearl.

“It’ll be easy enough, right?” Marina forced herself to say. “The music is what we know, what we’re good at.”

“Yeah, but we gotta be all sappy about each other.”

“We’ve done sappy before,” offered Marina, leaning closer to Pearl. “Into the Light?”

Pearl shook her head. “ That was different,” she said, the couch creaking slightly as she shifted towards her. “We went through some crazy shit right before we wrote that. The world almost ended!”

“Still,” Marina fidgeted with the edge of her pink squid pillow, “it could be worse. Music is what we’re good at. I know we can do it.”

Pearl collapsed back onto the cushions. “If you say so…”

“Pearlie,” Marina leaned back onto the couch. “Keep reading.”

“Got it.” She looked back down, squinting at her phone. “Next: Promotional Deliverables,” Pearl quoted, cocking a brow. “Parties must agree to attend no fewer than three public dates, two interview appearances, and at least one red carpet event within the first thirty days of the contract. Each appearance must reflect an ongoing romantic connection.”

Pearl gasped. “ Holy shit.”

“What?”

“They ain’t messing around. The first date is tomorrow.”

“So basically,” Marina started, “they’re not giving us any time to figure this out.” She exhaled. “With ourselves, I mean. Before we make it public.” 

“Nope,” said Pearl. “Plus, it says here that you have to post a ‘photo of clients with romantic implications—casual, not over-posed’ to your socials with the caption ‘her girl’ with a fuckin’ pink heart emoji to ‘hard-launch’ the relationship. By tonight, 7:00.”

Marina froze. “Specifically me?” 

“Yep,” Pearl continued to scroll, eyes glued to her phone.

Humming, Marina tried to keep herself from screaming. Oh, that was great. They wanted her to be the one to quote Pearl’s drunken, apparently romantic meltdown to confirm their so-called relationship, like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter to her at all.

Her girl. 

The words that had been swirling around in her head ever since the afterparty last night would be on her socials. They wouldn’t only be Pearl’s words anymore. They would be hers, too.

“We can do it later. Just keep reading.”

♪♪♪

“Section…” Pearl yawned, “Twenty-Five. Upon termination of the relationship agreement, both parties agree to refrain from public commentary indicating the fabrication of said relationship..”

She scrolled. Marina was numb to the words at this point.

“Section Twenty-Six: Continuity of Brand. Parties agree to preserve Off the Hook’s marketable chemistry in professional settings regardless of personal circumstance.”

“Section Twenty-Seven—this is the last one—Should either party breach this agreement, the label retains the right to suspend future releases, dissolve current tour obligations, and assume full control of the Off the Hook brand, including likeness rights, masters, and unreleased material.”

Marina shuddered.

“Cool,” Pearl muttered, tossing her phone aside. “Love that for us.”

The afternoon sun was starting to dip beyond the horizon. They’d spent the last three hours reading the entire document, and now the two of them were surrounded by food wrappers, blankets and pillows, closer together than when they had started. Marina’s shoulder was almost touching Pearl’s.

“Welp, that was…a lot,” Pearl said, voice thick with exhaustion.

“No…no kidding,” her voice came out rougher than she’d intended it to.

The contract had gone through many mortifying scenarios. Things like the terms around the use of pet names, and what to do in the case of a disagreement. They also weren’t allowed to engage in any romantic contact with other people. 

That was fine by Marina, considering Pearl was the only person she’d ever want to have that with. Not that she’d have anyone to compare it to. She’d never been in a relationship before, too busy with training, then engineering, then music. 

She’d never even really crushed on anyone, until she’d met Pearl.

Pearl had gotten a little weird about it,  but as far as Marina was concerned, despite sometimes being a little flirty with other girls, Pearl hadn’t attempted to date anyone the entirety of their partnership.

Marina felt a strange sense of glee at that realization.

Pearl reached into the bag of chips she’d opened about thirty minutes ago, after they had read the clause about fan interaction and how they should “encourage parasocialism. ” The bag crinkled, and all Marina could hear was the sound of Pearl crunching on the chips beside her.

“Hate to break it to ya,” said Pearl, checking her phone, “but it’s 6:27.”

Marina turned to her. “What?”

“We gotta take that selfie… due at 7:00, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Marina said.

The selfie she had to post using the ‘her girl’ caption. Great.

Dusting her hands off, Pearl tossed the chip bag back onto the coffee table.

“Uh,” Marina started, tucking a tentacle behind her ear. “My phone or yours?”

Pearl snorted. “You’re the one who has to post it.”  She grimaced. “Shit. Do I have anything in my teeth?”

Marina leaned in close—to examine Pearl’s teeth thoroughly, of course—definitely not to admire the curl of her lips. Nothing—her teeth were a pearly, clean white despite everything they’d munched on this afternoon. “You’re good.”

“Cool. Should we like… do it here?” Pearl rested her hands on her lap. “A lil’ couch cuddle?”

That wording had Marina blushing.

Pearl blanched. “Did I say somethin’ weird?”

“No, no!” said Marina. She took a second to compose herself, then launched into the mission plan.

“Hmm. It’s casual, like they outlined. I’d say yes.” If she treated this as a job, as the performance it was, maybe she could get through it. She looked around. If they didn’t shut the window, the photo would be backlit—her apartment faced the sun as it set. They needed some light, though. Maybe they should turn the lamp on. It would throw out a haze that would make the photo cozier— intimate, even.

She stretched, and crossed the room to close the curtains. Pearl’s gaze followed. The curtains were soft in her hands, a velvety white. “Could you get the lamp?” she looked back at Pearl, whose eyes were still wide and unfocused.

Pearl jumped. “Uh…yeah, sure. Gotcha.”  She reached over the leg of the couch to switch the canvas lamp on, right as Marina sat back down. The room was enveloped in a warm glow, less stark than the still-bright sun of summer evenings.

“That good?” Pearl asked.

Marina stretched to grab her phone off of the table. She flicked open her camera to test the lighting—it was perfect. Soft, romantic, and dreamy. The warm light bathed Pearl in amber. A static fuzz buzzed in her ears.

“Looks good,” Marina breathed. Her phone felt heavy. “…Really good.” This was it. This was real now. Pearl looked away, ducking her head.

“Aight,” said Pearl, patting the empty space on the couch beside her. They’d drifted apart again, on both ends of the couch. “C’mere. Let’s get this over with,” she picked at the string of her hoodie. “It ain’t weird if we don’t make it weird, right?”

“Right.” Biting her lip, Marina slowly, hesitantly, crawled forwards. “Would it be ok if I…sat behind you, for the photo?”

“Yeah, and you can, uh, wrap your arms around me,” said Pearl, voice oddly soft. “Gotta give the people what they want,” she added with a shrug.

“Okay.” Marina squeaked, and slid behind her, propping herself up on her knees. Pearl reached up and gently pulled Marina’s arms around her shoulders so the camera was angled in front of them.“Is…is this ok?” 

Marina watched on the screen as Pearl analyzed the two of them in Marina’s camera. Her brows twitched. “Y–yeah. Uh. This is fine. Totally normal,” her voice dropped. “We hug all the time, right?”

Marina blinked. “What?”

Pearl went stiff in her arms. “Uh, I meant to say—can you scooch in a lil’ bit?”

Marina could barely look at her reflection, the worried look on her face was too much. Before this, Marina would’ve used any excuse to get close to Pearl, but this time, knowing this would be viewed as romantic, it felt wrong. 

It was just a selfie. A romantic selfie. For the fans. For Off the Hook.

“Do I look stupid?” Marina moved closer, her skin buzzing the more she touched Pearl, her torso now pressed completely against Pearl’s head and back. Pearl inhaled, sharp, and Marina could feel it. 

“Pffft, if you look stupid, I look like a clownfish ,” she mumbled. “So nah. You never look stupid.”

She hadn’t been expecting that. Marina almost dropped her phone, falling halfway onto Pearl. She swore in Octarian.

Pearl laughed, her head tipping back onto Marina’s shoulder like this wasn’t the most nerve-wracking thing they’d ever done. Marina’s finger hovered over the shutter button. If… when she pressed it, this moment would exist, real or not.

“Snap that pic before I do it myself,” said Pearl.

“Alright,” said Marina, shaky. “Smile.”

Pearl grinned, her fang showing.

It looked way too natural. 

Marina took a breath in, inhaling Pearl’s familiar scent. She closed her eyes. Her arms buzzed where they were wrapped around Pearl, every point of contact nearly sending shivers down her spine.

This was fine. All they had to do was get through the contract. Off the Hook would be okay. She’d be okay.

Marina was a fangirl, too. She knew exactly what everyone wanted.

Opening her eyes again, Marina was met with the view of her and Pearl on the screen again. She allowed herself to relax, watching herself as she tucked her chin onto the top of Pearl’s head. One of her tentacles coiled itself around Pearl’s arm, despite her willing it not to. 

Oh well.

She let a small, guilty smile sneak onto her lips as a pleasant flush rose to her cheeks.

They both looked so tired, but at least the pose looked natural. 

So she stretched a finger to the shutter button, once, twice, three times—in case Pearl blinked.

“I think those are ok,” she said.

“Yeah?” Pearl leaned into Marina more, her body warm. Too close. “Me too.”

“You haven’t even looked at them yet,” said Marina.

“Just the vibe I’m gettin’.” Slowly, Pearl attempted to snake herself out of Marina’s hold.

Now Marina just had to get through their cafe date tomorrow. One day at a time.

“Uh, ‘Rina?” said Pearl.

Marina directed her gaze back towards Pearl and froze. Her tentacle was still wrapped around Pearl’s arm.

“I’m kinda stuck,” said Pearl, lamely.

Marina jumped back, pulling away.

“Sorry,” she said. Oops.

“No prob.” Pearl grabbed Marina’s phone out of her hand. “Lemme see…”

Marina watched as Pearl scrolled through the photos, pausing on one where the framing was at a slight angle, and the flush was visible on Marina’s cheeks.

It looked real.

“This one?” asked Pearl.

Marina tried to imagine the photo—this photo—of the two of the two of them looking entirely too intimate with the caption her girl.

“Sure,” Marina agreed, even if just to get it out of the way. “Let’s post it.”

Chapter Text

Their selfie was blowing up. It was at 20 million likes, and according to the social media people, there had been a 75% increase in fan engagement as well as music streams overnight. Their label was very pleased.

Marina had it pulled up on her laptop, resting on the café table. She'd been staring at it for the past ten minutes. Her and Pearl looked comfortable, Marina's arms slung over her shoulders, Pearl flashing the camera an easy grin.

It made her feel uneasy. That selfie, that post was everything she really wanted. It looked natural. Too natural.

At least the cafe was cute—a local chain known for their vast array of syrups and pastries. Spaced-out bistro tables with trendy chairs and padded seats sat amongst soft white walls, sunlight streaming in through the windows.

She sighed, elbows on the table, and pulled up their assistant’s email.

Hey girls!

Details for the date today:

• Arrive separately to Nautica Coffeehouse at around 10:30

• Date will last around 45 mins-1 hr, be sure you're compliant with the affection guidelines

• Pap walk out of the building together, holding hands is MANDATORY!!!

• We've called about 20 paps so make it count!!! This is your real debut!!!

• Debrief at HQ after

XOXO,

Jennie

A coffee date. Sort of normal. Usually though, Pearl was here as her friend. Today? She’d be here as her (fake) date.

Would Pearl act like she always did, easy smiles, jokes, and conversation?

Or would her gaze be weighted, her eyelids heavy, as she wound her lips around flirtatious phrases—the nickname ‘Rina now accompanied by words that were far more dangerous, words like babe and gorgeous? Marina could see it now, and—

“Order for Johnny!” A barista’s voice cut through her fantasy.

Too much, she scolded herself, cheeks burning.

It was just an hour with Pearl.

An hour with Pearl that would eventually determine their future.

Marina shifted in her seat, clenching her jaw. The smell of coffee and hazelnut almost burned her nose, overpowering.

It still made her stomach turn—the way their record label was dangling their careers over their heads and using their music against them.

There was no use ruminating over it: they were in it. The important thing now was to sell the relationship so this whole situation could be solved.

She opened her camera. There were still bags under her eyes that she'd piled concealer onto this morning, to no avail. She still looked exhausted, and there was a reason for that.

After Pearl had left her condo last night, she'd spiraled down a rabbit hole. She had to be convincing—for Pearl, for their label, for Off the Hook. So in the darkness of her bedroom, under the glow of her laptop, she'd typed in the words:

What to do on a date??

She'd read article after article about how to behave, how to dress, what to say—and maybe also stayed up till around 5:00 am rewatching her favourite rom-com, Dangerous Damsels, for the three hundredth time (she was counting!)—for research purposes, of course.

From these highly trustworthy sources, she had extrapolated the data and created an outline for the entire date:

Marina's_PR_Date_Plan_real_REAL.pdf

• Greet her with a hug (be POLITE. Don't overindulge)

• Pay for her order

• Sit down at the table (Test the chairs prior and let her have the one that is the most comfortable)

• Compliment her (DO NOT GO OVERBOARD!!)

• Don't stare at her the entire time

• Act natural (What is 'natural?????' when im going on a date with pearl???)

It wasn't foolproof. Really, it wasn't even very good. But it was all she had.

Marina checked the clock—10:40. Pearl was late, as always. The fizz of anticipation was sparking in her gut, growing stronger each minute. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. Had this been the right outfit to wear? She'd tried to find out if a skirt was too formal, if she should have gone the way of a nice pair of jeans, but the advice had been all over the place.

It would be embarrassing to look like she was trying too hard, but she also didn't want to look like a slob.

Her phone buzzed: A text from Pearl.

just pulled up

She slammed her laptop shut, shoving it in her bag.

When she looked at her phone again, Pearl was still typing. After a minute, another text came in:

yo is it cool if i kiss u on the cheek

like when i come in

All Marina could do was stare, her hands trembling.

After another minute, two more came in:

for the cameras

A kiss on the cheek. Pearl wanted to kiss her on the cheek. Her lips, touching Marina's face. She had to grip the edges of her chair to steady herself.

i okayed it with pr

we don't have to

Pearl had given her an out. She’d asked her if it would be okay. She could easily just say no, but…

rina???

No. She was Marina Ida.

This was doable. It was just a kiss on the cheek. From a friend. Hearts pounding, she typed a response.

That’s fine! See you soon  ❤️❤️

Two hearts? Was she trying to look desperate?

It took effort for her to not slam her head into the table. She rubbed her eyes, trying to ground herself in the sensations of the cafe, the hum of machines, the crinkling of pastry bags, the tip-tapping of fingers on laptop keyboards.

A soft, acoustic song was playing in the cafe, the lyrics something like:

Why do we have to keep pretending?

Marina groaned, yearning for her headphones.

Shouting erupted from outside, and she snapped her head up. The paparazzi were flooding the street outside of the coffeehouse, in front of a very familiar black SUV.

Marina closed her eyes, taking a calming breath, trying to calm her fluttering stomach.

The glass doors opened, and the humid air from outside blew in, sticky and moist. The sounds of camera shutters and screams filled the cafe, slicing the calm atmosphere in half. Almost everyone's eyes shot towards the entrance.

“Pearl!” said a deep-voiced pap.

“Pearl, is it true you and Marina Ida are together?” asked another.

“Is Off the Hook on the hook?” another asked.

"You ain't getting nothin' from me!" yelled a squeaky voice, and there she was.

White, canvas cap pulled low, covering her eyes, pink Enperry jersey, baggy jean shorts. She looked up, and their eyes caught.

Her breath caught. Time hiccuped.

Pearl.

“What do you have to say about your meltdown? Was it really because of Marina, or is it because you lost the award—”

The door slammed shut as one of their bodyguards pushed his way in. He gave Marina a wave, and she waved back. He stood attention at the door, making sure no one could force their way in.

Marina stood up, smoothing down her skirt. The plan began now.

Pearl's gaze swept throughout the cafe, until it landed on her. "Marina!" Pearl smiled at her, soft and fond, before walking up to her table. “Hey."

First order of business: a hug.

“Hi,” Marina breathed, pulling Pearl in for a hug, allowing herself to wrap her arms around her. Pearl’s hands stuttered, before they slid to rest on the small of her back, warm and solid and real.

Through her view out the window, Marina could see about twenty men of all different species, each holding a camera, their bulbs flashing and the light imprinting itself on her vision.

Marina let her eyes flutter shut. She could feel Pearl’s hearts thumping fast, the rise and fall of her chest against her ribs. She could smell her musky-sweet perfume, mixed with the bitter coffee scent of the cafe. Marina let her head drop to rest on her shoulder.

This was lasting a lot longer than their hugs usually did. They were up to twenty-three seconds, now.

The thick whirr of a frothing machine. Murmurs from the other customers.

“Is that them?” Someone whispered.

She counted to thirty before Pearl let go.

"How…" Pearl's voice was abnormally tight. "How you doin'?"

"Good," said Marina. "And you?"

Locking eyes with Marina, Pearl's eyes searched her own, silently asking for permission. Her eyebrows twitched, and she was rocking on the heels of her platform sneakers. "Uh… I'm… chill…" Her gazed dropped to somewhere on Marina's face, just below her eyes.

The text. The kiss.

Swallowing, Marina nodded in silent approval.

Mentally, she revised her plan, adding in an extra step:

Marina's_PR_Date_Plan_real_REAL_FINAL.pdf

• Let her kiss you on the cheek

Clearing her throat, Pearl stood up on her tiptoes, craning her neck up to plant a kiss on Marina’s cheek. Marina leaned down to help her. Pearl reached to cup her cheek, her tiny palm landing on Marina's jawline. It was warm, so warm, it might as well have been branding her handprint into her skin. There was puff of air against her cheek, then Pearl's lips.

The murmured whispers, the paparazzi, the gentle, acoustic music playing all came to an abrupt stop as Marina's world was reduced to Pearl.

Her lips were soft as they brushed her cheek, and Marina didn't think anything could be better than this. A light tingling started at their point of contact, dragging down, down, down into her fluttering stomach, down her spine, to her toes.

Cameras flashed in quick succession. Pearl lingered for a second, then moved away, her breath ghosting Marina's cheek before she stepped back. It smelled minty, as if she had just brushed her teeth before she'd come.

Marina didn't swear—not like Pearl—but holy shit.

Pearl said something, a teasing smirk spread across her lips. Marina didn't hear—couldn't hear.

It was just a kiss on the cheek. Friends kissed each other on the cheeks.

Then, Pearl waved a hand in front of her face. "Uh, Earth-to-Marina?"

Marina’s brain blue screened. Command protocol: failed. Her face tingled where Pearl's lips had been. "Yes?"

“I said you—uh, you order yet?” asked Pearl, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"I-I'm just…tired." She had to compose herself. “Sorry. I was… I was waiting for you."

“Yo. Oops,” said Pearl, scratching the back of her neck. “My driver didn’t want to bowl over the paps. You shoulda’ ordered before I got here.” She tipped her hat up so she could see Marina better.

Now, Marina could see the pink freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose.

“Been waitin’ long?”

“No, no! Ten minutes, maybe,” she said, forcing a giggle, high, strained, a little too loud. Everyone was looking at them, now, eyes torn away from laptop screens and tablets.“It’s okay. I don't mind waiting… for you.”

They stared at each other.

“We can—we can go order now, if you want to,” said Marina quickly.

Pearl nodded. “Yeah, sure. Your girl’s starving.”

They walked over to the counter, past the myriad of plants scattered throughout the building, all eyes on them.

Except for…

The baristas, who were currently huddled in a circle, facing away from the customers.

“I can't believe Off the Hook is here," one giggled.

“Did’ja hear they’re dating?” squealed another.

“Oh, I saw the selfie…” one muttered, almost reverently. "The way they were looking at each other… ugh!"

Without looking at them, the barista at the counter, an edgy-looking sea anenome—septum piercing, ripped jeans, the works—said:

"Yeah, Pearl is so in love."

At that, Marina's eyes dipped to Pearl. She had no reaction, arms hanging lazily at her side.

"Hang on, we've got customers…" They turned around and their jaw dropped. Their eyes bugged out as they realized just who their customers were. “Oh my cod! You're—you're Off the Hook!"

At that, the other baristas looked as well. One of them almost dropped the ided tea they were shaking.

Marina smiled, giving the barista a little wave. They squeaked.

“That’s us,” said Pearl.

“I’m—I'm so sorry, I'm just such a big fan! What can I get for you?”

“I’ll get an espresso—double shot." Pearl leaned on the jade-coloured counter, splaying her fingers wide.

Marina's gaze caught on her rings. She'd worn her gold ones today, the special ones her Gamgam had gifted to her on her twenty-second birthday.

"And you, Marina?" the barista asked. Marina opened her mouth to order, her eyes sweeping over the menu boards—

Pearl butt in. "My boo'll take a medium iced caramel oat latte—keep the ice light. I don't want her gettin' cold.”

She remembered her order…

What Pearl had actually said sunk in about a second later. Her boo?

Oh, cod.

Marina cleared her throat, pretending she hadn't heard. She stared at the espresso machine, trying to distract herself by guessing its model, year, and failure points.

She knew it was for show, to keep up the ruse. And it was a stupid nickname. But that didn't change the way it lodged itself in her brain.

Get it together.

“Is that all for today?” asked the barista, blinking at them expectantly.

Marina stood, silent, as Pearl ordered her favourite breakfast sandwich, then tapped her on the shoulder. “You want anything to eat?”

“Um…” Marina pointed to something in the pastry box, not even looking to see what it was. “I’ll… have one of those.”

“Ooooh, great choice," said the barista, grabbing the whatever-it-was with tongs and putting it on a plate. "All that will be about 40G. How would you two like to pay?”

Marina pulled her shoulder bag off, unzipping it and reaching for her wallet. “Oh, I’ll use—”

Pearl put an arm in front of her, her shiny, gold credit card already in hand.

“No, no, I gotchu,” said Pearl, making a show of biting her lip, wagging her eyebrows at Marina.

Marina narrowed her eyes. She had to be the one to pay.

“You don’t have to…” she tried, lamely. Once Pearl had her mind set on something, she wasn't going to be stopped.

“Oops, too late." Pearl tapped her card, the machine beeping as the purchase went through. “Already done.”

• Pay for her order

“Pearl…” Marina sighed, slinging her bag back onto her shoulder, crossing her arms.

“What?” Pearl cocked her head, raising her eyebrows, and a smug smirk spread across her lips. Marina hated how attractive it looked on her. “You mad?”

“Next time, you're letting me pay…”

“Hah!” Pearl leaned in, licking her lips. Marina tried not to stare. “Good luck with that.”

She leaned in, too, like she was going to respond.

“Um…” The barista said. Their heads whipped around. 

“Here’s your pastry.” They had a grin on their face, green eyes darting between the two of them.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” the barista said. “I have to say it—you two are just so cute together!”

Pearl smirked, wrapping her arm around Marina’s waist. “Right?” She winked. Winked.

Marina froze, but forced herself to smile anyway. “Thank you," she said, grabbing the plate from the barista.

“Oh, you're welcome. Your drinks will be ready in a minute!”

They thanked the barista again, but all Marina could focus on was Pearl's arm wrapped around her waist.

"So," Pearl lowered her voice once they were turned the other way. "Guess they liked the selfie."

♪♪♪

Pearl sat opposite her, elbows on the table as she sipped at her drink, pink lips wrapped around the straw. The same lips that had just been on her cheek.

Marina quickly took a swig of her drink, so Pearl wouldn't notice the teal flush flooding her face.

"That good?" asked Pearl, brow cocked.

Marina nodded too fast. "Is yours?"

"Yup." Pearl grinned, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Following suit, Marina took a bite of the pastry she’d ordered. It was lemon-raspberry, cakey but light, and somehow it still settled heavily in her stomach.

Should they be acting like they were in love even though it was just the two of them? Surely people were listening—she drew her gaze towards the baristas, who were not-so-subtly sneaking glances at them about every five seconds. What were they expecting? The things Marina had seen in her research? Laughing, and conversation, and touching, and—

A camera flashed, and they both jumped. It was no secret how public this was, and that fact wasn't doing anything to calm Marina's nerves. The label must have chosen this place for the visibility the windows gave.

Really, it was a smart strategy. But it happening near about forty-eight hours after her entire life had been upended, soured Marina on it a little bit.

Marina took another bite of the pastry, the glaze sticking to her fingers. It was good. Maybe. A little too much lemon for her taste.

Pearl mumbled something like "Let's get this shit started," under her breath, then:

“Yo, I’m gonna hold your hands, ok?” Pearl whispered, gesturing with her eyes to the hundreds of cameras outside. “Gotta give 'em a show.”

Marina’s hearts thundered in her chest, unable to tear her eyes away from Pearl’s. Hold her hands? It was nothing they hadn't done before, really, but this was recontextualizing it in a way Marina had never allowed herself to imagine.

This fixed her earlier dilemma, if only a little bit. Pearl actually knew what she was doing. So she shoved down every single emotion this brought up inside and forced herself to comply. Forced herself to be fine with it.“Ok. That's ok.”

Hesitantly, Pearl reached across the table, meeting Marina in the middle. She laced their fingers together, and Marina’s senses were filled with the cool leather of Pearl’s fingerless gloves, and in contrast, her soft, uncalloused hands. Her own pulse fluttered against Pearl's knuckles.

"Is this okay?" Pearl squeezed her hands. "You're kinda…" she trailed off, leaving Marina to guess what she was going to say. Stiff? Warm?

"Yeah, it's—it's fine." Swallowing hard, she chose to ignore that for now. Marina's eyes dropped to their hands, entwined with each other like it was nothing. The difference between their skintones was stark, especially under the sunlight streaming across the table. Marina's hands would have been trembling, if not for Pearl's grasp.

Her plan had not accounted for this, but she should have assumed it would go sideways. Plans and Pearl never exactly seemed to work out.

"Chill. I can tell you're freaked, 'Rina," said Pearl, her thumb swiping across Marina's hand. At that, her vision swam. "It's just me."

That was exactly her problem.

“I-I know it is,” Marina whispered back. Should she be honest? “How are you acting like this is normal?”

Pearl shrugged. "Just trying not to think about it too hard," she said.

“Right,” Marina said. She said it like that was the easiest thing to do ever. Of course, Pearl wasn't in love with her like Marina was, so obviously it would be easy for her. Her tentacles coiled over her shoulders—stress reflex. "Right."

This was too much. Honestly, she had no clue how she was going to get through three whole months of this if this was how the first forty-five minutes of them being public was going.

No, no, no. She had to stop catastrophizing, so she reminded herself of the stakes: if they messed this up, if she messed this up—all of their work was gone for good.

What was worse? This, being a little uncomfortable, or losing Pearl's partnership for good?

Marina instantly knew the answer, and she grounded herself in the bitter-coffee scent of the cafe.

She needed to get back on track with something that made sense. Mentally, she checked her plan. She'd gone off the rails a bit since Pearl had paid for both of them and now this, but next up was:

• Compliment her (DO NOT GO OVERBOARD!!)

There was plenty she could say about Pearl.

She allowed herself to look, gaze tracing Pearl's button nose, her lip piercing, her soft, fleshy cheeks…

Could she say something nice about her outfit, the way her jersey slung off the shoulder just so, showing off her collarbones? Her rings? Her choice of beverage?
Or…

She held her breath a second too long. The paparazzi were watching, and everyone was listening, and this had to seem real...

"I like your eyes," blurted Marina, before she could talk herself out of it. A thrill rushed through her. She'd been wanting to say something like that forever.

Pearl choked on her drink, letting go of Marina's hands to cover her mouth. "You like—"

Her stomach plummeted. That had been the wrong choice. Why hadn't she just said something about her drink?  "I-I mean, like, they look pretty in the sun…not in a weird way, not that it would be weird, but—"

Shaking her head, Pearl put a hand up. “Yo, wait, wait, wait—are you tryna flirt with me?”

Marina stiffened. Abort mission, her brain screamed. Mayday. MAYDAY. "No!" She shook her head. "I mean, not really, the articles said…" Pearl's eyes widened at that. "Just forget it."

"The articles?" Pearl leaned in with a teasing laugh.“Did you do research on this?"

"N-no!" she lied.

"Hah! You totally did. You're such a dork."

Her ears were burning, impossibly hot.

"People are watching. We have to be—" Marina caught herself, then lowered her voice. "We have to look believable."

Marina's eyes darted to the guy standing outside the cafe, who was scribbling into a tiny notepad. He hadn't looked away once, repeatedly studying them, scribbling something, then looking up again.

"And they're definitely reading our lips," she muttered, covering her mouth with a hand. "So be careful, please."

"No way," said Pearl, whirling around to face the window. "Oooooh," she said, after she saw the guy. "Shit, you're right."

Pearl posed for a picture, throwing up a peace sign, and blew Marina a kiss. The cameras flashed again, and Pearl chuckled, turning back to her.

"In that case," said Pearl, performing again. "Y'know, you ain't half bad at it."

"At what?" asked Marina.

Pearl leaned back in her seat, taking a long, drawn-out sip of her drink. "Flirting," she said, with an exaggerated smoulder. It shouldn't have affected Marina the way it did, sending waves through her stomach. 

"You're a lot better at it than me," she said quickly, not wanting to dwell on that. "I think…I think you should, er, take the lead. Like...with this kind of stuff, if you know what I mean," she was trying to say it without saying it, so the people listening, writing, and capturing, couldn't tell. She gestured with her head to the paparazzi outside.

Pearl blinked rapidly. "Me? Take the…" she trailed off, going silent. "Oh. Yeah, okay. If—if that's what you want," her thigh bounced, jittery, shaking the table. "then yeah, sure. I can do… that."

Marina’s hearts thundered in her chest, unable to tear her eyes away from Pearl’s. “Ok. Great."

Silence, for a moment, the only sound the clink of ceramic mugs and jazzy piano. Pearl fidgeted in her seat, picking her drink up then setting it down again. Her nails were nearly bitten down to the root.

The sound of the baristas giggling rang out through the cafe.

"What are they laughing about?" Pearl looked over towards the counter.

"Us, probably," said Marina.

Pearl snorted.

Marina picked at a thread on her skirt. "Soooo, um… Did you…get the schedule Tower sent too?”

"Ugh." Pearl rolled her eyes, fully embracing the change of topic. The tension between the two of them seemed to dissipate almost instantly, Pearl's shoulders relaxing. "I don't wanna talk about it. Yo, we got enough going on with festival prep. Now they want us to, like, do interviews and extra photoshoots too?"

"It's a lot," said Marina. "I feel like we've been through worse, though. Remember those early mornings for Inkopolis News? Those were horrible."

Just saying it brought back memories of the 4:00 am call times, the cold makeup chairs, the cheap mic packs that never stayed attached to their clothes…

"Just when I thought I'd zapped those outta my head," Pearl grumbled. "You're right. Still mega-sucks, in my opinion. Just wish I coulda' gotten us out of it."

"We're just going to keep going in circles if we start talking about that," Marina said. They'd already dwelled on it enough in Marina's condo the day before. "Let's…" What was something else they could talk about?

There was one thing in particular that had been nagging at her since yesterday—The thing being Section Ten: Promotional Music Requirements. The time she hadn't spent last night studying flirting had been put toward thinking about the song, listening to the demos she'd written to Pearl after they'd saved the world years ago.

"Have—have you thought about the song? At all?"

Pearl snorted. "Nah. Have you?"

"Um, not—not really," she lied, then sighed. "A little bit, actually. I just think we should start working on it sooner rather than later, so it doesn't sneak up on us. Two months isn't exactly a long time. Especially since we, you know, have to at least have something to show the label by the end of the month so we can approve it."

"For sure," said Pearl.

"And then we'll need to finish the mixing and everything too, once we have that dealt with. So, last night, I went digging, and… I…I have an old demo that might work," she was babbling now, unable to stop herself. "For like—the vibe."

Pearl paused, watching her. "Like…romantic?"

"Yes." Marina took a bite of her scone. "But—It's like, super old. And a bit sad, so we'll have revising to do, but it's better than starting from scratch. I wrote it after I—"

Realized I was in love with you. After we saved the world together. After I admitted to myself that I couldn't live in a world without you in it, because you accepted me for who and what I am…

Why had she started that sentence? Her brain worked way faster than her mouth. She could not tell Pearl what these demos were really about. Taking a second to come up with an excuse, Marina's mind went instantly to:

"After I read this… book about a girl who was in love with her best friend!" She plastered what was hopefully an eager, relaxed smile on her face.

Pearl looked at her for a second, mouth opening then closing. Did she not believe her? Marina had thought that was a pretty good cover.

But then Pearl nodded. "Oooooh, for your club thing?" she asked. "I think I remember you tellin' me about that one."

That was... way too easy. Pearl believed her? No follow-up questions? That was dangerously lucky.

"Yeah, my book club," said Marina, tracing a crack in the wooden table. "Anyways, I don't have it on my laptop, but I can send them when I get home. We don't have to go into the studio yet. I just want your opinion. Like always. I always want your opinion."

Stop talking.

Pearl's expression softened.

"Awww, Marinaaaaaa… Don't get all sweet on me. But yeah," Pearl said, "that'd be good. Anything to save time."

She smiled at her, and Marina smiled back. This was good. This was familiar. This felt like them. Maybe things wouldn't change so much.

A timer went off.

"Shit." Pearl reached into her back pocket, pulling out her phone. "That's an hour."

"We maxed out," said Marina. It had flown by.

"Guess we better head out." Pearl stood up, leaving her trash. Marina rolled her eyes, picking it up, along with her own, and throwing it away. Together, they walked up to the doors.

"You leavin'?" Their bodyguard said, brows raised, arms crossed around his broad chest.

"Yep," Pearl responded. "Hour's up."

"Finally," he sighed. "Good luck out there. They're hungry ones."

"Thank you," said Marina. "We'll be careful."

"You guys got our backs though, right? Cause if Marina gets jumped by one of these crazy—"

"You know we wouldn't let anything happen to y'all, Lil' P," he sighed. "Or you, Miss Ida."

Pearl shot him a glare, and Marina huffed. With that, he opened the door.

There was a sea of paparazzi waiting for them.

"You ready?" asked Pearl.

Marina stepped back. "I don't know…"

"We just have to make it to the car," Pearl said. "Then we're home free. Er… HQ free."

"OK," said Marina. "Let's do it."

Pearl grabbed her hand again, and they walked out the door to the sound of shuttering cameras and the flash of bulbs.

♪♪♪

The yelling was what she noticed first, shouts of "Pearl" and "Marina" overlapping so many times it became unbearable.

The sea of faces going by as they walked blurred into a dizzying spectrum. Even some fans had shown up now, holding signs with their faces on them, calling out things like:

"We're so proud of you!"

"We love you!"

It warmed her heart, admittedly, to see the support. She let herself indulge in it for just a moment, tucking into Pearl's side.

But the aching in her chest grew twofold as it instantly reminded her that this wasn't really hers.

So as they stepped into the black SUV parked across the street, waiting for them, she could hear her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

"You okay?" Pearl asked.

Marina turned her face to the window. "Y-yeah," she said. "It's just… a lot."

The car door slammed shut.

♪♪♪

OFF THE HOOK IS ON: #PEARLINA is Inkopolis' Newest Power Couple

The two were seen getting comfy at a local coffee shop in downtown Inkopolis. A source at Tower Records has confirmed their relationship after days of speculation that stemmed from Pearl Houzuki's romantic defense of Marina Ida at an Inkopolis Music Awards afterparty.

Congratulations girls!

Within less than an hour, their date was Inkadia-wide news.

The photos looked real. Marina, trailing after Pearl, their hands interlocked.

A shot of them sitting at the table through the window, laughing together.

Their hug at the beginning of the date.

And worst of all…

Pearl kissing Marina on the cheek, up on her tiptoes, her tiny palm cupping Marina's cheek tenderly.

Marina could still feel the way Pearl's hand had set her skin alight with warmth.

"Good job, you two," said Mika, retracting the projector. "You're selling it. Everything is going exactly as we planned. The fans are loving you, the press can't get enough, and the scandal has been buried. Every single mention of 'Pearl,' 'Marina,' 'Pearl and Marina' and 'Off the Hook' online and in publication has absolutely nothing to do with the other night's incident."

"Sick, my fuck-up's been erased," said Pearl. "Can we leave now? Some of us got places to be."

Their assistant cocked her head, her short, black cropped tentacles swaying to the side. "But there's nothing else on your schedule today."

"Uuuhhhh, we have lives too," Pearl stood up. "I got a fat nap waiting for me back at home."

"I think whatever you need to do can wait about twenty more minutes," said Mika. "We need to run through the fan metrics with you two, so you're prepped for the interview with Inksider in a few days."

Pearl rolled her eyes, plopping back down onto her seat.

"Marina," Mika said. "I know you like numbers!"

♪♪♪

Even back at home, the touch of Pearl's lips to her cheek, the way they looked in the photos haunted her.

It was all she could think about as she had rummaged through her drawers, searching for the external SSD she'd saved the demos on.

Now, sitting at her desk, the lilting synths of her demo played in her headphones. The instrumentals weren't too bad, if a little rough and underdeveloped, but the lyrics were terrible. She cringed as her voice sang:

I wish every day that you'd feel my pain / So you could see I need your affection/ Like rotting daisies need rain

The lines themselves were bad enough, but she was also flat for most of it, her voice dipping a semitone below the Gb6 the highest note was supposed to be. Marina knew, having astute experience with her own voice, that it meant she had been crying before she'd recorded this, her vocal cords swollen, snot plugging up her nose.

She sighed. Embarrassing. And she'd already committed to sending these to Pearl. Backing out now would make it look even more suspicious.

The song continued, tge lyrics still overwhelmingly terrible. It was overwhelmingly obvious Pearl hadn't checked them over. Marina considered herself a pretty good lyricist, but Pearl had a natural grasp on turn-of-phrase and rhythm and meter that Marina could never achieve (though Pearl would be the first to argue against that sentiment.)

With the cursor, she dropped the file into her chat with Pearl, her stomach dropping. There was no coming back from this—once Pearl heard them, she'd heard them.

So Marina quickly typed a message out:

Just tell me if you like it!

And hit send.

Her chest clenched as she leaned back into her desk chair, pressing the heels of her wrists into her eyes. Now, to wait for Pearl's response.

Chapter Text

Pearl never wanted to see the inside of that coddamn HQ boardroom ever again. Had they actually just needed a thirty-minute meeting after they were forced to go on a coffee date—being ogled by the paps the entire time? 

Boring, corporate-ass, sell-out bullshit.

She crossed her arms, leaning back onto the elevator wall. The cool metal pressed against her back—Thank cod she'd worn an oversized jersey instead of a tank.

Just the sight of Mika's face—her stupid pink fins, her smug grin, and her ugly, beige pantsuit— made Pearl want to bash her own head in with a sea snail—or worse, subject herself to a private, one-on-one lecture from Sheldon about something stupid like the dexterity of chargers.

Pearl sighed, impatiently flicking one of her gold rings around her finger. Well, she was the idiot who'd gotten them into all this in the first place. Maybe she deserved it. 

She glanced over at Marina beside her—her gaze was fixed forward, staring at seemingly nothing—unless she was mad interested in the poser punk band poster plastered onto the doors. Pearl rocked on her heels, averting her gaze. 

She eyed her warily. Marina’d been acting weird since the date. Avoiding eye contact at the meeting, quiet, and in the car, after the pap walk, she’d basically shuffled herself all the way to the other end of the car.

Marina’d said she was fine, but…

Had Pearl messed up? Done too much?

Pearl tried to recall the way she’d acted during the date. Marina had seemed… aight with it all. Sure, it had been a little awkward, but, yeah, that was expected. 

Marina had even gone as far to tell Pearl that she liked her eyes.

Her eyes flicked to Marina again. Her tentacles were doing that curly thing they did when she was tweaking out, and she was rubbing her fingers together. Interesting. Maybe she should… ask her about the poster? Nah, nah, that would be weird. Keep it chill.

Ding!

The elevator stopped, at floor 14—and the crustacean guy who was in there with them shuffled out. That left her and Marina alone. Without his heavy-ass breathing, it was even quieter in there. Just the hum of the cables.

She tapped her foot against the white, marble floor, restless. Pearl rolled her neck, cracking her knuckles, and the elevator air still was tense, stale. This was stupid. One of them had to say something before she suffocated.

Screw it.

"Welp. That was fun," Pearl deadpanned. It took a second, but Marina eventually shot her a smile. It was tight, strained. The breakfast sandwich she’d eaten was twisting around in her stomach. Awkward.

"Very," Marina breathed, shoulders stiff. Her skin looked grey under the stark fluorescent lights. "Done now, though," said Marina. 

"Thank cod," Pearl said. "One down, whatever-many to go."

Marina laughed, but it was short and cut off. Pearl frowned. The shell was going on? 

Was there something Marina wanted to ask her? Was she scared to? Pearl thought they’d gotten past that point years ago, but with everything that had been going on lately…

She could probably use a ride, but Pearl didn't want to be pushy. Eh… whatever. "Uh, you need a ride home?" she asked, trying to figure out what the issue was.

Marina shook her head, tentacles swirling around her shoulders. "No, I'm okay, " she said, rubbing at her eyes. “I called a driver. Thanks, though!" she smiled.

“No prob,” said Pearl. She bit her lip. That had been off-base. Well…cool.

She let her big-ass head drop back onto the elevator wall, and she tapped her foot on the floor. Why was this shit taking so long? They’d only been on the twentieth floor, not the seven hundredeth. 

She pursed her lips, pulling on the chain around her neck. The elevator doors swung open as they reached the bottom floor, and Pearl breathed a sigh of relief. Ahhh, the scent of freedom—mixed with a shitty pine-scented air freshener. Deeeelish.

The two of them walked through the lobby to get to the glass front doors. Marina waved goodbye to the receptionist—Kathy. Pearl'd walked straight past her. Her and Kathy had beef.

Pearl pushed open the front door, holding it open for Marina. There were two black SUVs parked at the entrance, side-by-side. A pang shot down Pearl’s chest at the sight.

If it wasn't the driver, what was the issue?

Had she done something on the date to spook Marina?

Marina was probably just tired. She’d been rubbing at her eyes a minute ago, and she had said she’d done research for the date. Which meant she’d been up shella late last night. Or overstimulated from all the cameras and yelling and shit--she got like that. Or both. 

Somehow, that explanation didn't feel right, and Pearl couldn't explain it.

It was quiet, again, and not in that comfortable way where they both felt comfy with each other. "Uh, We splittin' here?" Pearl asked like it wasn't obvious, to fill the space, and Marina nodded.

"In that case, thanks for the date," Pearl joked, nudging Marina with her elbow. She thought it might break whatever this weird tension was.

Instead, Marina flinched away, backing towards her SUV, laughing, tightly. The sound shot a pang down Pearl’s stomach. Her jokes never flopped. But that? Had not been a real laugh.

"Oh, yeah, sure…you… too." Marina said, voice strained, and gave Pearl a little wave. Even sounding… rough and raspy and like that, Marina's voice was still all musical. Weird. But nice.

Her tentacles whipped around her shoulders as she turned around, before Pearl could even wave back. 

"Huh," Pearl said, watching her almost sprint away. She couldn't just let her leave like that. She had to know if Marina was acting all weird because of something she did.

“Hey, wait!” Pearl called out. Marina turned around. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” she asked.

Marina stumbled, slightly. “Of-of course!” She called out.

“Aight,” Pearl said. “You can dip now.”

Marina nodded. The two of them said goodbye, then Pearl watched as Marina’s teal-tipped fingers wrapped around the handle of the car, watched her climb in. He better be a good driver—Marina deserves only the best.

Pearl shoved her hands into her pockets, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She tore her eyes away from Marina’s SUV, driving away, and turned towards her own car, pulling the door open and climbing inside.

Why was this bugging her so much? 

She tried to get all comfy, pressing herself up against the leather seats—but her leg wouldn't quit bouncin', no matter how much she told it to stop.

Taking a deep breath, she peered out the window, watching the streets of the city fly by. 

Chill. Everything was fine… probably. 

Next time they saw each other, Pearl’d ask her straight-up. Yeah. That made sense.

Now? She was gonna go home, tuck herself under a mountain of plushies, and nap.

***

Pearl groaned, tucking her silk sheets under her chin. She'd tried everything—relaxing brainwave vibrations, counting sea sheep--fuck, she'd even tried to sleep on the floor.

Nothing had worked.

Now, in the darkness of her room, every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was:

Marina at the afterparty, the purple lights washing over everyone, that burly Barnacle freak getting all up in her face. 

Marina's face again, as she'd snapped yesterday—“What is there to talk about?"

She rolled over, burying herself in the mountain of plushies she'd built on her bed, trying to get comfortable. One, a stuffed octopus, was pressing into her ribs—ugh, whatever it was stuffed with was hard—so she whacked it off of her bed, and it hit her marble floor, right beside the entrance to her closet with a clack. 

She settled back under her sheets. Much better. 

But when she tried to get some shut-eye, there was Marina at the cafe after she kissed her—on the cheek, flushed and unfairly pretty—in like, an objective way.

They looked good together--that’s what the magazines, and the fans, and the paparazzi said, anyways.

Pearl had to agree--from an outside standpoint, of course. 

She moved onto her side, hugging a pink squid plushie into her chest.

Marina, Marina, Marina.

Fuck.

Pearl shot up, her chest tight, and pressed her hands to her eyes. Shit. Sweat pooled on her upper lip, behind her knees, her hearts pounding in her chest.

What the shell was going on with her?

She hadn’t been expecting this to be messing with her head so much, but--

It had been so easy to add a little bit extra into their back-and-forth. Too easy. Putting on a show had been fun, even. Fun, to keep the crowd fed—To hear the fans holler, and watch the cameras flash as she reached up to kiss Marina on the cheek. Pearl'd always been someone who loved to perform.

And now that the performance was over? 

She couldn't get it out of her head.

Pearl rolled onto her back, fluffing her pillow with her hands. She stared up at the ceiling, her sparkly chandelier an ugly, shadowy blob—she'd shut all of her blinds. All she could hear was the dull fsssshh of the air conditioner.

"Guh," she groaned, shoving her face into a pillow.

And now Marina was acting all weird, and Pearl had no idea why.

Maybe she was reading too much into it…no, no—Marina’s tentacles had been doing the curly thing! It was always the curly thing!

What was the issue?

It didn't matter. Pearl had to find out and fix it, especially if it was because of her. They had a red carpet date scheduled for next week after all.

But honestly? Pearl didn’t give a shit if they looked ‘real’ to the public or not. All she cared about was that Marina was okay. ‘Cause if she wasn't? Pearl would really get the Enperry lawyers to take a peek at that contract.

The only one who should be punished for all this was Pearl. She was the onw who’d climbed on the stage, after all.

Consequences of her own actions and all that shit.

She crossed her legs, licking her lips.

“Pearl is so in love," the emo barista had said. For some reason, that was also running on repeat in her head.

So everyone really thought that, huh?

Yeah, yeah, it was good for the fake dating shit, but really, the video of her at the afterparty hadn't been that bad, just taken completely out of context. It pissed her off a little bit, her skin prickling with heat. People didn't get her and Marina—this was just how they were.

Pearl dragged her hands across her face. Cod, why did she even care? Like she'd ever given a shit what the public thought, and besides—this was just a stupid act. 

In three months this would all be over, her and Marina would be free, and nobody would remember it happened except for some parasocial chumps on Squitter begging them to 'get back together.'

Fuck. People were dumb.

Pearl snatched her phone from her bedside table, checking the time. 9:30 pm. She groaned. She'd been trying to nap for literal hours. Obviously, she'd failed, considering she'd gotten home at around two o'clock, tried to nap at seven, and hadn't gotten a second of shut-eye. In her defense, it was hard when her brain kept showing her shit that made her feel… she squirmed—bleurgh.

But her and Marina had rehearsal in a few days. She'd give her time to cool off, then Pearl could see how things were goin'--and talk to her, if she needed to.

It was fine. Chill. Cool. No prob.

She wiped a drop of sweat off of her brow, turning off 'do not disturb' mode, and massaging her temples. Napping wasn't working? Then it was time to start doomscrolling. How many times had her mom called her? What wild things were the fans saying after their—

Her stomach dropped.

A text, from Marina—sent an hour ago: a file titled demo_245. And the message?

Just tell me if you like it! ☺️

Shit.

Making sure her read receipts were off, Pearl opened Marina's message. She went to press play, but stopped herself. Nah, this was a Marina demo—Pearl needed to hear this right. 

Not half-assed, not while lying in bed, her brain twisted into knots, and definitely not on a shitty phone speaker. If Marina cared to send this? Pearl damn well cared to listen. 

And besides, booming bass and crystal clear acoustics were what Marina deserved, so she jumped out of the cocoon she had made out of her bed and dashed to the studio a few halls down.

***

Slamming her phone onto the desk, Pearl connected her phone to the speakers, pressing play on Marina's demo before she could even think twice about it. If she thought about it, she might chicken out.

Piano chords filtered into the studio, reverberating off of the wooden walls, and wow—this was different already. Marina's demos were usually shit like retro synths and perfectly programmed drum machines, but this? This was messy. DIY. Just Marina and the piano. 

Pearl sank onto the cushy red couch in the centre of the room as Marina started to sing, her honeyed voice low and warm, and it did something to Pearl's chest--but that stayed private. Aw yeah. Take me to heaven. Cod, she would never get sick of how gorgeous Marina's voice was...and she’d say that about anyone that could hit a clean note like her.

Her fingers tapped against the couch cushion faster than usual. Weird. Not thinking too much. Definitely not.

The piano chords swirled as Marina sang over them—and damn, Marina had been right, earlier. This song was sad. 

I'd wait for you everyday / would you wait in the same way? 

She scratched at one of her tentacles, leaning forwards. Damn. This was… She'd never heard Marina sing about love before. Ew. Weird. She closed her eyes, letting herself get lost.

Marina's voice cracked on a sustained note as she kept hammering out piano chords—quick and messy. Pearl bit her lip, hard. 

You made me brave / You saved me from the unknown

If I told you, would you still be my protector? / Put your suit of armour on?

For some reason, that had her mind flashing back to—Defending Marina at the afterparty, "If you try to splat Marina I WILL CUT A FISH—"

Pearl sat up straight--huh? That didn't--Why had she…

She shook her head, settling back into the couch. Nah, not related, focus on the rhymes. Uh… maybe…

…Something about the word protector seemed off, a little clunky. Maybe it could be like—would you still protect me? Be my bodyguard? She squirmed on the couch, crossing her arms. They'd be able to work it out in a studio session.

From the first time we met / I'd never felt less alone

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to concentrate on the piano—or Marina's killer technique—or the rhyme schemes. Pearl chewed on her thumb. It was about a book. Definitely. Obviously. Marina had said it herself on their date today.

I wish every day that you'd feel my pain / So you could see I need your affection/ Like rotting daisies need rain

It must've been a shella dope…book…manga… thing… Yeah. That was it. Because…This? Marina didn't do this. Nah. The lyrics were, like, weirdly poetic in a way Marina did not write her lyrics—and Pearl knew how Marina wrote. 

Had she stolen this off the internet or something?

Nah, 'cause Marina was way too clean for that. She preached artistic integrity and shit, she would never.

The final seconds of the demo trickled off, Marina's voice saying:

"Cod, this is stupid, I should just—"

The recording stopped, leaving Pearl to process the shit she had just listened to in complete silence. What was that? Marina never called her own work stupid—or at least, Pearl'd never heard it before. She was always proud of what she did.

She pressed play and immediately listened to it all over again. 

It was raw. A little corny, sure, but--Pearl had no idea Marina could write like this, all vulnerable and... Pearl swallowed around the growing lump in her throat... romantic. 

Pearl tapped out a quick, half-assed reply to Marina.

its great we can DEF use the bones

Marina responded almost instantly:

What do you like about it?

Pearl's fingers froze over the keyboard. For some reason, that hadn't been the response she had expected.

I love your voice

No. That was a given, wasn't it? She tried again:

I did NOT think you had this in you

Pearl deleted that one quicker than she'd typed it. What? That made no sense!

didnt know u could make me feel like that

Cringing, she deleted that one too. In the end, she sent:

chords slap

There, perfect. She leaned back onto the couch, sinking into the cushions. For some reason, she didn't care if this thing were to just swallow her up, then and there. But then, her phone lit up again as Marina sent another message, almost immediately.

The lyrics are terrible.

Pearl scoffed. What was this girl talking about? 

They aint THAT bad

Marina took a minute to reply, which had Pearl's hearts racing.

Really?

Pearl typed a reply,

Maybe a little 

But we can for sure turn it into something

Didn' know u had that in u tbh

Marina's final reply came after several minutes:

😊

Pearl rolled onto her stomach, kicking her legs up onto the armrest. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, maybe an explanation of the lyrics, something about the time signature, but—a singular emoji? From Marina, the girl who once spent three hours telling Pearl about the link between key signature and the story of a song? Something was definitely up.

*** 

Thankfully, Tower had given them the next two days off. The reason for this? That the two days of silence would somehow drum up more 'fan interest.'  Whatever that meant. Pearl didn't get all this PR shit, and if all this wasn't riding on her losing Off the Hook, she would have been long gone days ago. At least she got a few days off outta it to try to fix whatever was going on with Marina, or her head.

Pearl had mainly spent the first day holed up in her bedroom, stuffing her face with anything she could find. Trashy reality TV shows and sci-fi movies had played around the clock in her private movie theatre. Had she been trying to distract herself from fake dates and interview prep and demos and contracts? Yes. Had it worked? No.

She'd still been trying her best to stop thinking about the contract, their schedule—all that other crap that made her want to punt her phone off the top of Moray Towers. It gave her a weird pressure in her head that she'd usually only felt when she couldn't think of the right rhyme. But it wouldn't fuck off.

Today, things were gettin' switched up—Marina had to come by to pick up some tools she'd left in Pearl's garage. 

Now? Marina was in front of her, standing in the middle of her dusty, ten-door garage, and Pearl had to act like she wasn't all jittery—from her morning coffee. Yeah, that was it.

"Yo, you need some help?" Pearl asked, watching as Marina knelt down to pick up her toolkit off the garage floor. "That shit looks shella heavy."

Why were there so many different wrenches? Big ones, mini ones… what were those even used for?

Marina looked up at her, smiling. "No… I think I'm okay," she said, slinging the leather bag over her shoulder.

Pearl knew that tone, knew the way the corner of Marina’s lips quirked up…

"Hey!" Pearl said, hands on her hips. "You sayin' I couldn't handle it?"

Marina's shoulders shook with laughter. "You're misinterpreting what I said." 

"Oh—you're gonna be like that today?" Pearl joked, testing the waters. 

Marina just shook her head, exasperated. She walked over to the stand-thingy that was parked next to the Princess Mobile—Pearl's iridescent pink sportscar she'd never even driven—and started to dismantle it, pushing a tentacle that was drooping over her eyes off her face.

Pearl leaned onto the Princess Mobile, trying to act casual. Her gaze kept flicking to Marina’s hands, the way her tentacles brushed her jacket—she felt a weird flutter she tried to ignore. "What even is that?"

"Motorcycle jack," Marina said, moving on to the other side. Pearl waited patiently for more of a spiel, but it never came. Which was not right. Marina loved to talk about her bike, and her mods and general techy shit—and Pearl liked listening. Sure, yeah, she found all the nuts and bolts confusing and dull— but the way Marina explained made it all sound interesting.

Pearl bit her lip. Marina was still kneeling over the motorcycle jack thing, not saying anything. Even though she was in her element, her shoulders were still all tense. "And it does what?"

"It's a lift," Marina explained, finally. "So I can work on the inners."

"Ohhhh," Pearl said slowly. She still didn't get it, but that was ok. "So it’s like… a thing for your thing. ”

Marina didn't say anything else. Pearl looked at her expectantly, still waiting for more. Marina stood up, grabbing the pieces and putting them into her bag. Was that all she was getting? It seemed like it. Awkward. This called for a subject change.

"Yo," Pearl watched Marina strap the bag onto her bike. "You, uh have time to chill here for a bit? I ain't, uh, doing anything else today, and if you want, we can uh—maybe we can get to work on the song? Maybe study the backstory shit for the interview soon? Ugh. If you want to work. I know today's a day off, but..."

Marina froze, before she continued on. "I… I have some stuff to handle," she said, avoiding eye contact as she rifled through her bag, the clunking sound of metal-on-metal echoing through the garage. "The engine's been stalling out," she said. "So I need to fix it… I've checked the fuse, the regulator, the battery…they're all alright, so it's something with the clutch…" She grabbed the medium-sized wrench, looking at it for a sec, then put it back down. "…That's the lever that separates the rotating engine from the rear wheel. It's supposed to release gradually, but something's happening to make it jump forward as soon as I hit a certain speed…"

"Uh-huh," said Pearl. Marina was speaking at lightning speed, and Pearl had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. She'd been waiting for this ramble the minute she'd opened the garage for her—but Marina didn't sound all passionate like she usually did. Her voice was all tight, and she was digging through her tools aggressively, and her tentacles were swirling around her shoulders rapidly. 

Nah, somethin's off.

Marina’s brows were pressed together, her shoulders stiff. She was still avoiding eye contact, which was normal for her—but something about this seemed different."And since we have a lot on our schedule, I need to fix it today, before things get too busy, and then we're off on tour…" her voice cracked on the word tour.

Pearl frowned. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Pearl said, waving her hands around. Marina stopped talking. "Slow your roll—you're making my head spin."

Marina's eyes widened. "Sorry, I—"

Fuck it. 

"Yo, you've been acting weird since we got coffee," said Pearl, pushing off of the Princess Mobile. Her heart raced more than she liked to admit. She hated feeling this jittery. "Seriously, what's goin’ on?”

Her stomach twisted as she waited for Marina’s response. Come on, just tell me…no, no, she wasn’t thinking that.

Marina froze, her mouth opening then closing again. “I…” she started, zipping her bag up, teal-tipped fingers curling on the straps. "It's not you, not-not at all. I just—tomorrow we have rehearsal, and I..." she trailed off, looking at the floor. "Sorry, I have a lot on my mind."

Pearl stepped forward, the stomp of her boots echoing in her massive garage. "Hey, if anyone else gets that, it's me. We talked about this the other day, remember?" She pushed herself up onto the hood of the Princess Mobile, crossing her legs, ready to listen. "Tell me what's up. I'll be your ear."

"Pearl, I—" Marina cut herself off, sighing. "There's nothing to tell."

"Was it me? The date? Was that too much? Cause I thought we said the other day—we'd check in wit' each other, and now you're all—'nothin' to tell—What's up?"

"You're fine, " Marina said, again. "The date was…fine, I guess. You were great. It's exactly what we have to be doing—"

"Have to? 'Rina, if this isn't working out, we can switch it up. Change our names, go indie—whatever." She'd thought they'd made it mad clear the other day that they did not want this to ruin them. Their friendship was way more important than their record deal. "I don't want to lose what we have over some dumb PR stunt."

Marina flinched at that, bumping into her bike, knocking her helmet onto the floor with a bang.

“Shit,” Pearl reached for her helmet, and  “You need—“

They both reached for the helmet, their hands brushing in the middle. Pearl’s hearts fluttered as they locked eyes, Marina’s mouth held open in a little ‘o’ shape. Too much caffeine.

“Um—“

“I got it,” Marina said, ducking her head and picking her helmet up.

Pearl bit her lip, chuckling. “So, uh…whaddya think? ‘Bout what I said?”

"It's okay. I'm okay," Marina balanced her helmet on her hips.She looked good today, jeans and a black leather jacket. Pearl suddenly felt underdressed, just in an oversized hoodie. “I just… get in my head."

"Yeah, no duh," said Pearl. Marina was the opposite of her—Pearl liked to jump in headfirst, while Marina spent hours planning and perfecting and shit. Shell, the girl had done research for a fake coffee date! 

"And… I guess, well…" Marina took a step forward. "You know I'm not… used to all this. It's a lot." She still was avoiding Pearl's gaze.

No one was used to having to pretend to date their best friend-slash-music partner. It was a weird situation all around, so Pearl got it. It made sense.

"And that's cool. Who the shell is used to fake dating their best friend?" Pearl asked, resting her chin on her hands. Marina's brows quirked up at that, for some reason. "Just tell me next time. I’m here. I gotchu.”

"I… I know," said Marina. "You're right." She set her helmet back down onto the seat of her bike. 

"Yeah I am. Come hang for a bit," Pearl said. "Please?"

Marina's eyes flicked back up to meet Pearl's and she sighed, a smile creeping up onto her lips.

***

They eventually ended up in the studio, Pearl cozied up on the couch, Marina sitting at the desk chair she'd claimed for herself, in front of all the techy shit Pearl tried not to touch.

“You send this to Tower too?"

"Not yet. Like I said, I—I wanted your opinion first."

"I told you what I thought the other night when you sent it to me!"

Marina sighed, tucking a tentacle behind her ear. "…I thought you were just being nice."

Pearl rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's not your best, but that ain't mean it's like—total shit."

"Are you sure you really like it?" Marina said, She said it like Pearl was the type to sugarcoat shit for her. As if.

Pearl's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Girl. Would I lie to you?" she said. "You know I'm the realest critic in the game."

Marina sighed, spinning in her chair. "No, of—of course not... I just... I don't know. I guess… I thought you would hate the lyrics." 

Pearl weighed that, trying to keep her answer guarded. "Eh... some of ‘em are a little corny. But that's nothin' we can't fix. Most of ‘em are actually kinda good. We just gotta build a verse for me, give it a happy ending... then boom, golden." She gestured for emphasis, leaning back onto the couch.

"And that shouldn't be very hard,” Marina started, toying with a few knobs at the console. “It’s, um, about unrequited love--right now, anyways. So, if we add your verse, we can connect together in the bridge, and the final chorus can be the 'getting together."

This girl. Pearl could come to her with the craziest problems and she’d find a solution in at least ten seconds flat. Weird, though, imagining the two of them in that story together.

“Genius. I never doubted you,” said Pearl. Marina hummed at that. Pearl fiddled with the chain of her necklace, putting it in her mouth to chew. Something was still up--there was a weird tension in the room that none of her jokes or reassurance had been able to get rid of. “Must’ve been a pretty dope book,” she said.

Marina startled at that, squeaking as she fiddled with the headphones around her neck. “Book?”

Pearl raised an eyebrow. Marina was a forgetful person—but they’d just talked about this two days ago. “Uh, the one you wrote this song about?” Pearl reminded her. “Must’ve been good if it pulled these lyrics outta you.”

“Oh!” Marina laughed. “Yes, the song—yes, it was good…” her eyes darted off to the side.  “I…It made me cry?”

That was so Marina. Pearl chuckled. “Aw, you’re such a sap.”

“You know me,” Marina said, voice wavering.

Their eyes locked for what felt like the first time today. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Holy shit, did she need to silence it. She pulled it out of her bag, eying the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Marina asked.

Dad, Pearl's screen read. 

Her stomach dropped. She groaned into her palm, knowing exactly what was coming.

Oh no. Oh shell no. 

Her parents had been calling her non-stop for the past days—she'd managed to avoid it by telling them she was busy and stuff—but she could only drag out those excuses for so long 'till they would literally send a search party out looking for her. And since the last time she'd talked to one of 'em had been her mom at the awards show—things were probably gonna explode on her if she didn't answer this call.

"One sec, gotta step out for this," Pearl said, jumping off the couch and into the hallway. Marina's brows twitched, but she just slid her headphones back on.

Shutting the door behind her, Pearl walked a few steps away, leaning on the white, tile wall right outside of the studio.

All this call was gonna be was him telling her how much of a trash business decision going up on stage to defend Marina was, and how she'd—like, dishonoured the family for the 10,000th time.

With regret, she pressed the answer button and blew a breath out of her mouth. Here we go.

"Hi, Dad," she said, crossing her arms. Welp. No going back now. She steadied herself, waiting for his reply. 

On the other line—An intake of breath. Oh, so this is how it was gonna be. He was making her wait! She rubbed at her neck, mentally tracing the outline of the studio door.

"Where are you, Princess?" He said, like this was just a normal call. Aw shell nah. Pearl knew that it was deeper than that.

"My place," she said, fiddling with one of her gold rings, swinging around her finger once, twice, three times. "Was just in the studio with Marina. You know how it is."

Her dad cleared his throat. "Ah, okay, okay,” he said. “Am I… interrupting anything?” 

“...Nah,” said Pearl, wrinkling her nose. “You’re cool.”  Why had he said it like that?

“Perfect. I'm just in between meetings right now, I can't call for long," he said. All Pearl could hear was the light hum of the car. 

"'Kay," said Pearl. The line still buzzed with static. C'mon, she mused,  Say something.

"Pearl, " her dad said, finally, "the awards—"

Yep, here they went. It was lecture time.

Pearl couldn't hold back an exasperated chuckle. "You see my performance?"

"Pearl!" he said.

"What?"

"This isn't a joke—you've seen the headlines, you're everywhere." he said. 

"Yeah, no duh, I've seen 'em," she said. Her screen time being 13 hours a day for the past few days didn't count for nothing.

Her dad sighed on the other line. "So you realize that it was disrespectful, embarrassing—"

This was the narrative that was pissing her off. The idea that defending Marina from some jealous, loser creep—sloppily drunk as she'd been—was a bad thing? Even with all this stemming from it, the fake dating, everything? Pearl would've done it all over again if they were forced to relive that night. "If you were there, you woulda' seen exactly why I did it, and—

"No, no, that's not what I'm even mad about—"

"That bitch Jai from the Barnacle whatevers was sayin' shit to Marina that—" What had he said? Pearl furrowed her brows. "Wait, wait, hold up—What are you talking about? "

She could hear Marina humming through the wall. For some reason, her hearts were pounding.

"Princess, it’s… Why didn't you tell us you and Marina were together?"

Pearl laughed. “Damn, Dad, you got me, good one.”

“Oh, don't worry, Princess. Marina's a lovely girl, we've been waiting for you to tell us—well, your mother and I certainly weren't expecting to find out through a headline on Inkopolis Daily."

They'd even made the front cover of an old people magazine? 

That was—

This was—

WHAT THE FUCK? 

This was wack, crazy, insane—every word that fit into that definition? That's what this was. Her mind was swimming, her eyes were bugging out of her head, and her tongue was all tied up in her mouth, too heavy to wrap itself around words.

"Uh…" she started. She had to say something. There was no way she could just let her dad believe this. "We—Marina and I—we ain't—we're not—"

“Your mother and I love Marina, you know that--we’re always saying how much she’s mellowed you out--you didn't have to keep this a secret from us… we approve.”

With dawning horror… Pearl realized that this was not a joke.

"Of course, I'll be there in a moment—" He said to someone else. "Sorry, Princess, I really have to go, I'm sorry—tell Marina I said hi!"

No, no no—he wasn't about to get away like that. 

"No—no you can't, I—shit—"

Pearl’s heart thumped harder than usual. Whatever. Totally normal panic. Not…not anything else.

He hung up.

"We're NOT TOGETHER!" Pearl whisper-screamed to the empty hallway, before groaning.

Shit, she thought, slapping a hand to her face. Her chest was thumping so hard it felt like her hearts were about to… fuckin' super jump straight outta there. Her dad—her parents—had seen the pictures, and the fan edits, and the after party video. And what had they gotten from it all?

Not that they were obviously doin' this for PR, but that they were the real deal

Pearl took a deep breath, trying not to scream. Now, she had to go and face Marina after... whatever that had just been.

Marina would think this was funny, right? It was funny.

So why the shell did the idea of telling her have Pearl sick to her stomach?

She shook her head, puffing up her chest. You're a big girl, Houzuki. You used to like, crowd surf and shit all the time.

Opening the door, she saw Marina again, facing away from her. Her stomach plummeted into the floor. Shit, why did this have her so rattled? Pearl cleared her throat, and Marina spun around. Her eyes widened as they fixed on Pearl, and she slid her headphones onto her shoulders.

Marina's rounded ears popped out, and Pearl's face grew warm. She averted her eyes, looking at the screens above the mixing console with all the wavelengths on them.

"Your dad called?" Marina tilted her head, her voice soft. "Is… everything alright?" She just looked so concerned, and her eyes were all glittery in the lights, and her tentacles were brushing the cushion of the chair—No, no, what?

That was…not important right now.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," she said, crossing her arms, flashing Marina a smirk. But Pearl didn't move—fuck, couldn't move, eyes darting everywhere but Marina. It felt like Marina had taken her weldy-thing and moulded her slippers to the floor. "Everything's normal—chill, everything's chill."

The first thing Marina said registered mentally. "Wait—how'd you know I was talkin' to my dad?"

Had she heard the entire conversation?

"I saw the caller ID," said Marina, twisting a tentacle around a finger. Pearl's gaze tracked the motion, the way it swirled around a teal-tipped finger. "…before you left."

"Ohhh," Pearl said, scratching the back of her neck as she walked back into the studio, practically jumping onto the couch. "Yeah—that—makes sense, yeah. Hah-hah. Caller ID."

Marina stared at her.

Pearl stared at Marina.

Marina's lips were glossy. Pearl blinked, trying to get rid of the weird pressure in her head.

"Should we get back to work?" Marina asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Pearl said, "sure…"

Chapter Text

Pearl's home dance studio was hot and sticky, thanks to the humid spell late-June had brought. Marina slid her scrunchie off her arm, tilting her head to the side. Her reflection followed, tentacles squirming as she scooped them up into a high pony. Eyes tracing across her reflection in the dance studio mirror, a frown pulled at the corners of her lips. All of… this was starting to take a toll: the lack of sleep, the stress… Without makeup to cover them, the bags under her eyes were shadowy, and even in the bright lights of the dance studio, her skin looked ashen, dull.

Nothing a little body oil wouldn't fix. Hopefully.

Dragging a hand over her face, she glanced to Pearl, watching as her lithe muscles stretched as she warmed up, her t-shirt riding up her stomach, revealing a strip of creamy, pale skin. No. Marina averted her eyes, focusing instead on the posters of their previous shows and tours, scattered along the walls, as she reached over to stretch out her obliques.

Marina turned around, inspecting her updo. Her tentacles were stuffed into the too-small scrunchie, but it would work well enough. Across the room, Pearl was slipping on her chunky, white, platform sneakers.

Tension still radiated between them, Marina could see it in the way Pearl's shoulders were held taut, the way she chewed on her cheeks and paced around the room as she stretched out her arms.

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Marina inched towards the centre of the studio to stretch out her neck and shoulders. She swung her arms back and forth, shaking off the rust of the morning.

Still, she found her gaze drifting to Pearl, wo was currently bouncing on the balls of her feet, face scrunched up in a scowl.

Pearl cornering her in the garage was still fresh in her mind. Marina couldn't exactly tell her what the problem was, but they couldn't carry on like this forever. Cut-off sentences. Awkward glances.

Marina bit her lip. Pearl's father had called her yesterday—could that have been where all of this today was bridging from? Pearl hadn't exactly divulged anything from the call, and they'd went back into working on the demo almost immediately.

A dangerous question slipped into her mind:

How much did Pearl's family know? Did they approve of this? Of her? The thought made her stomach churn.

She reached for the ballet barre, her hands clenching around it, smooth and sticky.

It didn't matter. It was none of Marina's business. The only thing that mattered, the only thing she was responsible for was her… friendship with Pearl.

Working out a knot in her shoulder, Marina sighed. It made her stomach churn to act this way around Pearl—when they usually could tell each other everything.

Especially when they would have to both look and act very close all the time. She needed to reach out.

Start small.

Out of the corner of her eye, she peeked over at Pearl again, who was now flopped on the floor, arms and legs held out like a starfish—and Marina couldn't keep the smile that creeped across her lips down.

"What are you doing?" she cocked her head, her voice echoing through the studio.

Pearl stiffened, and Marina's will to speak suddenly died. Had that been too much? "Sorry," she continued. "I didn't mean to.."

"Huh?" said Pearl, flipping onto her stomach. She rested her cheek on her hand, starng at Marina with wide eyes. "Whaddya mean you're sorry? You just scared the shit outta me, it's chill."

Oh.

Stupid.

Marina laughed, unable to focus on anything in the room, her vision blurring with the LED lights. "I mean…I didn't mean—" she hid her face in her hands. "It's…nothing."

Blushing, she turned away fom Pearl. Ok, ok. No. Change the topic.

Something like…

"Eight tried to call me last night," said Marina, looking at herself in the mirror as she adjusted her cream-coloured sports bra, the straps twisted. "After you left." It had been after she went home from Pearl's house—a voicemail asking why she hadn't been responding to her messages.

"Yeah?" Pearl mumbled, spreading herself out on the floor. "She's been textin' the group chat with you and me like crazy, too."

"Really?" Marina asked.

"Uh-huh," said Pearl. "She's all—are you guys ok? Answer me! She's been spamming it. You really haven't seen?"

"I…I've had my phone on Do Not Disturb for the past few days."

"But you got her call."

Marina froze, her arms going stiff, along with her tentacles. "Uh…" she swallowed. "I have calls from her…and, you and…like, work on priority, so they break through."

Pearl nodded. "Ay, didn't even know you could do that. Sick. You answer?"

"I…" Marina bit her lip. "I couldn't."

What would she have told her?

That this was all fake? That Marina was crumbling inside, trying to keep it up?

Eight had been trying to get a hold of her since the awards show. But, if Marina was honest? The idea of talking to anyone but Pearl about all of this made Marina sick to her stomach. Especially with someone like Eight, whom she knew well.

Pearl stretched her neck, tying up her chunky white sneakers. "You know we have to get people to sign an NDA if we want to tell 'em anything?"

"Oh…" Marina said. That clause had seemed unimportant compared to everything else they had read the other day. "You're right. That's…"

"Fuckin' crazy, right? I checked the fine print."

"I…" Marina swallowed. "I thought you said you weren't going to look at the contract again…"

Pearl's fingers slipped on her laces, and she hurriedly tied a bow, wrapping the pink laces around each other. "Just was curious," she mumbled, cracking her neck as she stood up.

"Oh, okay," Marina nodded. Her throat tightened.

Pearl had been on call with her dad the other day, in the studio after they had listened to the demo Marina still couldn't believe she had sent. What had they talked about on that call? How much did her dad know?

"Your dad called, yesterday, right?" Marina's eyes widened, and she fought the urge to slap a hand over her mouth.

Pearl just stared at her, mid stretch. "Uh…" she laughed stiffly. "How'd you know?"

"I… I saw the caller ID," said Marina. It was the truth."

"Yeah, then, yeah, my dad called."

Marina took a deep breath. It didn't matter. That was Pearl's business, not hers. Sometimes she forgot not every single aspect of their lives was entwined—despite how it seemed so during daily life. And despite how Pearl's parents had taken care of her in the years Off the Hook was on the come-up.

Marina fiddled with the seam of her waistband, the scent of sweat drifting throughout the air.

Pearl's phone vibrated, and she picked it up, jumping off of the floor.

"Ayo, Pearl here—yeah, yeah, you can let 'em in, the label sent him," she said, pacing around the room, her footsteps echoing. She put her phone back in her pocket.

"That was…?"

"Choreographer's here," Pearl shrugged. "Don't know why he needed permission to get in, I thought Bob had clearance with the—"

"HELLO, HELLO!" A loud, booming voice rang out through the dance studio, and they both whirled around to see a fish, with colourful red fins donning a sparkly tank top and short-shorts, twirling into the room.

"The shell are you?" Pearl asked.

"Ah, ah, ah," The fish said, pursing his lips. "You do not know?"

"We're sorry," Marina said. "We weren't aware anyone else would be coming in today."

The fish swept one of his fins over his shoulder. "Today, I, Vincenzo Gillario, will be taking it upon my brilliant self to TEACH you two in the ways of… dancing + romancing!"

She heard Pearl snort from beside her. "I thought we were just here to run over our choreo, work on staging stuff, y'know, the usual?"

"NO!" their choreographer struck a pose. "That won't do. Not at all. Not for this. You two… you are lovebirds, you are intimate, you are connected, and the choreography MUST reflect this!"

Marina frowned. "Wait, so—we're changing all of the choreo that we've been doing for years?"

"A few weeks out?" Pearl added. "If that's what you're sayin', we ain't doin' that."

"Ahh, I believe that this was indeed requested by your record label, ladies. Let's start easy—Today, we will finish Ebb & Flow! That is the goal."

They locked eyes, and Marina saw her apprehensiveness reflected back at her.

"Miss Pearl, stand in the centre," Vincenzo commanded, clapping his fins together.

Crossing her arms, Pearl stomped over to the centre of the room, her lips curled up in a snarl. "There?" she muttered.

Vincenzo pursed his lips. "Hmm. Move slightly to the side."

Pearl shuffled over, shrugging.

"More…" Vincenzo said.

Pearl shuffled over more. "Good enough for you?"

"DO YOU SEE THE X ON THE MIRROR?" Vincenzo growled. "That is the centre! Line up with it. I am through with you."

Marina could see Pearl scoff through the mirror, her brows pinched in the middle. Amusing. A chuckle nearly made its way out of Marina's throat, so she covered her mouth, trying to stifle it. Had Pearl met her match?

Suddenly, Vincenzo's eyes fell onto Marina. Oh no.

He slinked forwards, wagging his brows as his shiny black sneakers prowled towards her. Marina's chest tightened—Dance-mancing… What would this entail? How much mance over dance, percentage-wise?

She pictured their bodies together, the heat, the closeness…

How was she supposed to stay upright, let alone perform?

"Marina, gorgeous girl…" Vincenzo started, placing a hand to his heart."… you will be the prize our Pearl has to win!"

"Prize?" Pearl said, from behind them, her squeaky voice echoing throughout the studio.

"This… this is Ebb & Flow?" Marina asked.

Vincenzo cocked his head. "Yes, of course."

Marina grimaced. This was so wrong. "I… it's just—this doesn't fit the song at all." She'd written this song about her hearing the Calamari Inkantation, defecting from the Octarian domes, seeing Inkopolis, and meeting Pearl.

"Tell me, darling…" Vencenzo cocked a scaly brow. "Then what is it about?"

Marina took a deep breath. "The lyrics….they're about leaving a world of oppression, of finding somewhere where you finally feel like you belong, which is why I wrote it going from a minor key to major…"

Vincenzo just stared at her, until he burst out into laughter. "Hilarious!" he stopped laughing abruptly. Pearl scoffed from behind them.

"Throw it from your brain!," he made a gesture, waving a fin over his head. "That does not matter anymore. New choreo is what you will do, what fans want to see!"

Marina's hearts deflated in her chest. Of course, now their lives and art were being controlled, twisted for this half-true, convoluted narrative.

"Now," said Vincenzo, "Stand next to Pearl, on her right."

Marina moved to stand beside Pearl, lightheaded.

"Face each other!" Vincenzo yelled.

Marina turned around. Their eyes caught, and Pearl shot an exasperated look at her, rolling her eyes.

"Yo," said Pearl.

"Now…" Vincenzo started. "Get close together…"

They shuffled together.

"No, no, not close enough—This is romance!"

"This is so fuckin' stupid," Pearl mumbled, her voice low, just for Marina.

Their choreographer harumphed. "I want you to gently guide your hand up her arm to her shoulder…"

Marina forced down a squeak as Pearl did so, hand snaking up her bicep. Her skin buzzed under Pearl's fingertips, a hot, electric line. She wanted so badly to lean into it, but forced herself not to move.

Their choreographer screamed in approval. clapping his fins together. "Yes—YES, that is it!"

They were practically face-to-face, Pearl's hand a warm weight on Marina's shoulder, Marina's hips nearly brushing Pearl's.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marina could see the twisted, intimate position they were in in the mirror. It looked real, romantic, no matter how stiff and awkward she felt.

"Is this necessary?" Pearl asked, her breath puffing out onto Marina's face.

"Is breathing necessary?" Vincenzo asked, shaking his hips. He switched his attention to Marina. Oh, no. "Now, Marina, for this next line, walk away and glance back like you are DARING her to follow!"

The issue with that sentence was the like, because Marina would kill to have Pearl follow her like this.

She hesitated. What were they doing?

"Chop, chop!" Vincenzo clapped his hands together.

Marina made to protest, her mouth opening and closing as an 'I don't know…' threatened to slip off of her tongue—but then:

"Hey!" Pearl shouted. "You can't just force her to do shit!"

Marina struggled to not facepalm and blush at the same time. Pearl had to stop doing that, as much as it sent a fuzzy warmth swirling down her spine.

"Oh, Pearl, Pearl, darling!" Vincenzo smiled, uncannily wide. "Now that is the kind of passion I am needing from you two!"

"It's okay," said Marina, steadying herself. "I can do it."

Pearl just frowned.

♪♪♪

"Five, six, seven, eight!"

Two hours into rehearsal, the intro to Ebb & Flow played, and the two of them carried out the choreography. The second verse started, and Marina sang, beginning her strut across the stage.

"Ah, ah, shimmy those hips!" Vincenzo said, the tangerine sequins on his top catching the light. "Strut like you mean it, darling!"

She watched herself in the mirror to make sure her hips were swaying enough, matching Vincenzo's example.

"Now give her a look!"

Marina whipped her head around to look at Pearl. She forced herself to plaster a flirty expression on her face as she tossed her tentacles over her shoulder, rolling her hips from side to side. This needed to be real, believable, or they would lose everything.

"Yes, yes—like you mean it!"

Pearl, who hadn't yet been given any choreo for this section, just stood there, dead microphone in hand. She was staring at Marina blankly, and Marina could see the hint of a soft pink flush creeping up her cheeks…

Oh.

Had she done that?

"More, more!"

Marina looked away from Pearl again, continuing to strut away. It sent a thrill through her, dangerous, reckless—she'd made Pearl blush. It made her blush to think that she'd made Pearl blush. As she swayed her hips, walking to the end of the studio, Ebb & Flow blaring in her ears, she couldn't help but think: Had Pearl had that reaction because of the situation? Or, maybe…

"Darling, stop!"

Marina whipped her head around to look at Vincenzo. "What?"

“The hips, they are too—“

A wham as Marina walked straight into the wall, tripping over her own feet, her long legs tangling together. She hit the floor, and the music came to a stop.

A snickering Pearl ran up to her. "You good, 'Rina?" She reached out her hand, her golden eyes glimmering in the studio lights. Her teasing smile was dazzling, the way it pulled at her lips.

"Y-yeah..." Marina took her hand. It was warm, a little clammy with sweat, but it still sent sparks shooting down her spine.

Vincenzo squealed behind them. "Oh, the chemistry! Let's infuse this into the choreography now, shall we?"

Chemistry? Marina's hearts dropped, and she let go of Pearl's hand.

"I—" she started, not knowing what she was going to say.

A phone rang—Pearl's phone.

Pearl's brows shot up,and she ran ver to the other side of the room to answer the call.

"It's yo girl," she said. "Yeah?" her eyes widened. "Oh, shit, really?"

Pulling herself off the floor, marina rubbed at her hip, which had taken the brunt of the fall.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be there," said Pearl, hanging up on the call.

"Who was it?" Marina asked.

"No time to explain—we gotta head to the beach—like, now. Sorry, Vincenzo."

♪♪♪

Inkopolis whizzed by her car as Marina pressed play on the video PR had sent them. Pearl scootched over, tucking herself into Marina's side.

The interviewer, a whale with a smug grin and a too-tight suit, leaned forward in his seat."So, how are you feeling about all this? I imagine it's been a wild week for you."

A scoff. The camera angled flipped to reveal Jai of the Barnacle Boys in the adjacent seat, his arms crossed over his chest. Spotlights cast shadows across his face. A sneer stretched across his lips.

"Ah, yeah, what a coincidence, they get together right after loud-ass Houzuki defames us on stage after winning the biggest award of our careers, and now they're all everyone cares about." Jai leaned forwards, his blue tentacles flopping over his sunglasses, "They're trying to ruin us—It's a fuckin' coordinated effort and everyone is believing it!"

The video cut off, and Marina slumped back into her seat. Pearl cussed from beside her.

Oh, no.

♪♪♪

"Yo," Pearl said, her arms in the pockets of her oversized hoodie, figure outlined by the dawning sun. She looked like an angel, golden eyes glowing, cheeks flushed from the wind, tentacles swaying in the breeze, her knobby knees exposed by her denim skort. She had a small little freckle on top of her left knee.

"How you feelin'?"

Marina curled her fingers around her sandals, digging her toes into the sand. The salty air of the beach swept through her nostrils. "I don't know, it's…"

"Fucked up?" Pearl finished for her.

"Yeah," Marina said. That about summed it up.

Because of the interview Jai had done, an emergency photo shoot on the beach had been called—and they'd been told they were making their red carpet debut as a couple in two days at the IVAs, and the fitting was tomorrow.

So much for a day off…

"Can't believe he called us fake," grumbled Pearl, kicking at the sand. "Even thought it's true—it's…UGH!" Sand plumed out from where her chunky sneaker dug into it. "So fuckin' stupid…"

Marina didn't know what to say to that, so she refrained from saying anything, simply humming. Pearl may have been doing a good job, and they may have fooled their fans who would love anything they did—but it couldn't stop her from thinking…

Was it Marina's lack of experience that was setting the Barnacle Boys off? Were they analyzing all the footage of them together? Could they see the hesitation in the way she touched Pearl, the way she froze up when Pearl touched her?

"It's just Jai," said Marina. "You know how he is… I don't think anyone actually believes him."

"If the label is makin' us do this, there's someone out there who does," said Pearl, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"I guess…" Marina said back. "Maybe…they're just trying to cover all of their bases. We can't be, um…exposed before our tour even starts. This would all be pointless."

"Did I—we do anything wrong?" Pearl mumbled under her breath, pacing back and forth. "All the shots from the coffee date were dope—we were sellin' it. And the selfie?"

"People loved it," Marina finished.

"People loved it," Pearl agreed. "So where is this bozo gettin' this from? Do we needa' turn up the heat a lil' more? Kiss?"

Marina's throat tightened at that.

"Shit." Pearl's eyes widened. "Uh…I mean, not if you're not into that. Yeah."

Marina shook her head. "I mean…If we have to…I…" she swallowed, hugging her torso with her arms. "I wouldn't…be opposed to it."

Pearl stared at her. "Yeah. Yeah. Me too. If…if we gotta."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Hey girls," A voice called out from behind Marina—The private photographer their label called, a crab dressed in all black, beanie on his head. "Lighting's good today." The grasp of his large claws dwarfed his camera. His beady eyes widened. "Oh! Sorry, sorry—" he let his camera fall onto his chest as he reached a claw out to shake their hands.

"Name's Markus! I'm a big fan of you two," he said as Marina's hands curled around his held-out claw. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! The lighting is just perfect—the sun's gonna look so good—"

"Ay, love to hear it—but how 'bout we get this over with?" Pearl called out. "Rina and I been busy all morning, and we got shit to do after this."

Marina grimaced, sending Markus a look that was hopefully apologetic for Pearl's behaviour. "It's alright," said Marina. "Take your time. We really don't have anything planned after this."

"Says you," Pearl grumbled.

Markus nodded his head, his beady eyes glinting in the sun. "Ok, ok, got it. Should be able to keep this under ten minutes." He looked around the beach. "Uh, stand over by the water—not too close, though. And face me, so you're not backlit. Then, just, uh, walk and talk, look in love. I've seen all those other shots—you two know what you're doing with that."

So, they moved where he directed them, the sand more packed down, slightly damp from the higher tide. Pearl glanced towards the pap, then to Marina, locking eyes with her.

"I'ma put my hand 'round your waist," she said, chewing on her cheek. "You good with that?"

Marina's stomach crested in time with the waves, a rush of heat spreading throughout her chest, but she nodded instantly. "Yes, y-yeah, of course," she said.

Pearl set her head, smiling at her. "Aight. Lemme just…" She inched closer, and her body was warm in the cool, early-morning air. Her arm snaked around Marina's—well, more around her hips than her waist—hips, touch gentle and…a little hesitant, which was strange for Pearl. Her skin tingled where Pearl touched her, even through her clothing.

"It really is fine," said Marina, cheeks burning. "You can move it…" she was going to combust. "…Lower, if you 'd like."

"Yeah?" Pearl asked, looking up at her. "You sayin' that 'cause I'm short?" she continued, a teasing smirk on her face.

"No!" Marina said. The only times she'd actually teased Pearl about their height difference was when she'd forced herself to during their tenure at Inkopolis News, when she had been terrified to act as her true self, scared she'd be clocked as the Octoling enemy she was. "No, I just meant…you said…"

"Yeah…have a bit of fun with it…." said Pearl. "Uh…" Pearl slid her hand down, and Marina's breath hitched as her hand ghosted across the strip of skin left visible between her tee and low-rise sweatpants, settling there. Pearl inched even closer, their bodies pressed together in a tight line."All good?"

Marina could only nod, her voice caught in her throat. Cod. She could see every tiny pink freckle dusted across her cheeks. If she could, if she was allowed to, Marina would crane her neck down and pepper kisses across every single one of them, and Pearl would wrinkle her nose and giggle…

"Great shot…" The photographer mumbled, snapping Marina out of her fantasy.

Marina winced. That… that was too much.

The pap-walk-turned-photoshoot did last about ten minutes, the two of them walking down the pier in a series of romantic poses, Pearl's hand around her waist, the two of them smiling together, hands linked—which had Marina's stomach fluttering.

"Looks good you two," the crab said as he walked up to them. "I'll get the editing guy to do some touchups, then we'll send 'em off to the label—they should be published by noon."

"Thanks," Pearl said.

He nodded as he tucked his camera back into a little black camera bag. "It's no problem. You girls are easy to photograph."

Pearl smirked. "She gets that a lot."

"Pearlie!" Marina exclaimed, a flush again rising to her cheeks. "He was talking about both of us!"

"I know," Pearl said. "When has anyone said that 'bout me, though?"

"Well…" Marina thought. Pearl'd always had too much energy whenever they'd had photoshoots taken—there'd been one time they'd been doing one for Inksider magazine where Pearl was supposed to have sat still for five minutes—that had ended up taking hours, as Pearl hadn't been able to stop fidgeting with her rings, and then she'd gotten all huffy and Marina had to calm her down—the shot had ended up taking an hour.

"Never," Marina finished.

"So you get my point now?"

"I—" Marina started. "Yes…"

"You know," He said, slinging his bag around his shoulder. "I dunno where all these 'fake' rumours are coming from. You two are such a cute couple!"

Pearl's mouth dropped open.

Marina froze, her tentacles wrapping themselves around her shoulders. The waves crashed in her ears. He'd gone through that whole photoshoot thinking they were real?

"Thank you," Marina forced herself to say, Pearl still speechless at her side. "We… we were confused, too, about the… rumours. I mean, Pearl and I… we—" she tried to think of their relationship backstory. When had they gotten together? A few months ago? The crab looked at her expectantly. She glanced at Pearl, who had managed to school her face into some kind of neutral expression, arms crossed over her chest. "It's new. All of this, so…I get how some people can be confused." Heat crawled up her neck. This felt dangerous. "We never planned to announce it, last week, it just kind of happened, so we really had no strategy for the reveal or anything…"

The crab laughed as he slung his backpack around his shoulders. "Hey, I'm no Barnacle Boys fan. You don't have to pretend with me. We all know what they're trying to do…Men trying to get into women's business…"

They waved him off, leaving the two of them alone on the beach, their security watching them from the hilltops. In silence, they watched the crab walk away.

"Was…" Pearl cleared her throat. "Was he being for real?"

"I… I think so," said Marina.

"We weren't even…" Pearl started.

Her own words, "It’s new" echoed in her head.

Was it? Not for her.

Never for her.

♪♪♪

"Fuckin' blows they had to get us up so early," Pearl's voice rang out through her living room. "Yo girl is so dead after all that."

"I know," mumbled Marina, shoving her face into Pearl's couch. "Rehearsal and a photo shoot in one day..."

"Pictures look great, though," said Pearl. "Don't know how we did that."

The fans had gone crazy for the pictures, completely burying the Barnacle Boys quotes—online and in the news cycle. Marina scrolled on her phone, staring at various screenshots of their beach walk reposted along screaming, all-caps descriptions.

@pearlescents: THESE PICS???? how can u say this is fake?

@H0ZUK1iD4s: im melting omg theyre so cute

"Yeah," said Marina, gently putting her phone onto the couch--face down. "I don't know."

Pearl sighed. "Just gotta get through that fitting tomorrow, then the red carpet, finish writing the song, then more rehearsal with Vincenzo--they just keep throwin' shit at us! Are we even gonna have any time to do our festival tour?"

The label would never let an opportunity like that go to waste. "They'll make time," Marina said, twirling a tentacle around her finger.

"Ugh," Pearl groaned, and Marina nearly bounced off of the couch as Pearl threw herself onto it. "We sure all this is worth it? Is Off the Hook--"

"Of course it's worth it," Marina said, snapping her head off of the couch. She could not lose Off the Hook. Who was she without it? "We just need to take it day by day. Like you said, the fitting tomorrow, then the red carpet...If you think about it, the contract lasts until the end of August, so really, there's not much time left. It's June 25th today, so, June is almost over, which practically means it's July, which then practically means it's August, and if I were to look at the amount of seconds we have to endure in public eye and compare it to the time spent in private, it--"

A hand waved in front of her face, stubby and pale. "Woah, woah, slow your roll, 'Rina. I see those gears turning in your head." Marina watched as she scratched the back of her neck, mouth scrunched up sheepishly. "Hah. Didn't realize you wanted this to be over so badly. We spendin' too much time together?"

"No!" Marina exclaimed, sitting up. Pearl flinched back from her. Marina’s hearts pounded; too loud, too eager. Too real. "No, sorry, I mean--I want the fake to be over. Not--not you. I--you know I lo-like spending time with you."

Her stomach dropped. She had to stop talking before she accidentally professed her undying love to Pearl. "I just don't like being so busy. I want us to be able to work on our music, like we used to. Not have scheduled dates, and interviews, and walks and interviews at red carpets where we weren't even nominated for any awards..."

It was crazy how used to was in reference to just a few weeks ago.

"It's...overwhelming. And to be under contract? To know that we have to do all of this?"

"Makes it even shittier," Pearl finished for her.

"Yeah," Marina replied. "It does."