Fitting Back Together

The Door Between Us

A/N: So it's been a long wait but this is like the length of two chapters so hopefully that makes up for it a little?

Okay, don't judge me but I made a mistake where I had Yumiko's mother's name as Katherine in all my drafts, then must have made a last minute decision to change it to Anna when I posted that chapter in Conflict Resolution. I decided to change it back to Katherine, though, because that's what she's been in my head for all this time. When I tell you my memory is shit lol.

Warning: flashback of Miko being a little shit

. . .

[trigger warning: OCD, super vague blink and you'll miss it reference to past domestic abuse]

. . .

When Yumiko found Magna after the ball, she was tucked away in the kitchen, steadily working her way through a not-so-small pile of dishes. It was a familiar sight, if a little distorted.

Cleaning had always been one area in which Magna excelled over her. Too many times, Yumiko had come home from work to see her attacking every dirty dish in the apartment. Or vacuuming. Or making the beds. Or scrubbing the bathroom.

(all things that Yumiko tended to avoid herself for as long as humanly possible)

The trend had continued even after she'd moved out into her own place.

In some ways, it had been a blessing. In others. . . triggering. Yumiko hadn't forgotten the time she'd walked in the door to the stench of cleaning chemicals and near about chewed Magna's head off.

Alright. A little more than near about.

Yumiko blamed prison. Keeping things tidy and clean had been a necessity in there, possibly a matter of survival. After she'd gotten out, it had tangled into a mixture of habit and anxiety, even stress relief. Magna felt better when things were tidy. Clean.

(safer)

Another thing that set them apart.

Yumiko hated the smell of cleaning supplies. And much preferred when things were a mess. Cluttered. Homes were like that. And she'd needed her place to feel like a home, not like a-

Besides. Her full-time job had never left much time for cleaning, especially not her type of cleaning, which could end up taking three times as long as necessary. Longer, if counting came into it.

(One fold, two fold, three fol-

No, start again.

Three was bad)

Not to mention, with the amount of pets she'd had, a clean and orderly apartment had been about as attainable as the American Dream. She could still remember the exasperated expression on Magna's face every time an army of dogs and cats - or parrot - demolished all her good work within hours. Sometimes minutes.

Yumiko had found it all very amusing.

Even moreso Magna's obvious bewilderment over the fact that she didn't mind it that way. Didn't mind the mess.

. . .

"You have neat freak written all over you. Why the hell doesn't this send you into a tailspin? It's fucking weird."

Not as weird as the fact that it's sending you into a tailspin.

Truthfully, Yumiko was still trying to wrap her head around the demonic maid apparently taking up residence inside Magna's body. She certainly hadn't pinned her as a surlier, tattooed version of Mary Poppins when they'd met.