Surnames

Marcy had been asking them questions since Anne could remember.

She knew the answers for most of her questions, so it kind of became a way for her to tell them a new fact or a problem that she just learned. She often used that to start a conversation. It was just easier for her and they were fine with this. For years Anne was amazed how much she knew – like her brain was a little computer, working on and on (Marcy always considered that comparison as cute. It took forever for Anne that for her it was something more than just a comparison).

It also took Anne forever to understand that despite everything, Marcy didn't know answers for every question. Of course, she was aware of that, but... Maybe she really needed to see how it started with a sad look in her eyes, nervous fidgeting with anything she had in her hands and that face, betraying that something is bothering her. Questions of emotional nature.

Neither of them, Anne or Sasha, were good at this. Emotions were always difficult to understand and control, and with Marcy's logic, it was so frustrating for her that they needed another forever to make her ask. "It's okay" said by Marcy was now said by them, as they tried to make her sure that it's fine to not know. To be lost.

She would ask them anytime, anywhere. In the middle of class, at 3 AM on the sleepover, during conversation about another topic, it didn't matter. It was hers and they were fine with that.

It was good, until Amphibia. Many doubts and mistakes made, even fixed, required constant "Do you forgive me?", "Do you forgive me?", "Do you forgive me?". They did, but her asking on and on was aching like an open wound, being a reminder that she still hasn't forgiven herself.

Time passed by and she finally did. Her questions became less complicated, there was more touch and smile, when she understood that she deserved it too and finally found home in them. Home that started with swings and skinned knees, home that needed betrayal and hate to understand the true meaning of forgiving and loving, home that was ending in a too short blanket, your fiancées snoring and laptop's light in the middle of the night.

Anne opened her eyes, sleepily checking the time, as the watch's red numbers were glowing in the darkness. Sasha was still sleeping on her left side. Marcy was sitting on Anne's right, typing something on her keyboard.

"Marcy." Anne whispered, cuddling to her side. Frog, it was 2 AM. "Marcy, I love you, but what are you doing?"

Marcy looked at her. Laptop's screen was reflecting in her glasses.

"Oh sorry, Anne." She rubbed Anne's hair. "Did I wake you up?"

"As you can see." Anne smiled as she felt Marcy's hand in her hair. "But it's okay. Reading about sponges?"

Marcy laughed.

"Not this time. I was searching for information about triple-barreled surnames, though."

Anne felt a nice feeling in her stomach. Oh right, Marcy and Sasha were her fiancées. She still wasn't used to that, but it was kind of a good thing to forget. Every time when she was remembering about this, she just loved them more.

"Triple-barreled?" She slightly got her head up to see Marcy's laptop's screen. "Oh frog, how many tables have you opened?"

"Seventy four is not such a big number."

"It is, how are you keeping it organized?"

"I don't, Anne, you know what happens when I am hyperfocusing."

Both of them looked at each other in silence for a while and laughed. Sometimes Anne couldn't believe that they were fiancées, if they still were acting like teenagers.