Eight didn't understand what exactly she was feeling. Or… well she did, but she rather wished she didn't. The feeling was bound to cause nothing but problems for herself and others. Yet still, she couldn't help the overwhelming swell of affection she felt whenever she'd talk to Three. The concept of crushes, or romance in general, had been a distant idea with no barring on life in the Octarian barracks. Or at least, it wasn't a priority to them. No time for such trivial matters when their very way of life was being threatened day to day. No time for kissing when a bloodthirsty Inkling could pop in at any moment to steal their power, their family, or… or many other horrific and misleading things they'd been told about Inklings.

How ironic, Eight thought, that her first crush on the surface be on the one and only Agent 3 of the SquidBeak Splatoon. Three, the feisty green inkling single handedly responsible for infiltrating their forces, taking on near about every soldier in Octo Valley, and defeating DJ Octavio with relative ease. Though truthfully, Agent 4's recent(ish) mission to Cephalon HQ had proved how… questionably competent the guy could actually be. To be taken down twice in the exact same way spoke volumes of his adaptability and abilities as a strategist. Don't misunderstand, years of intense propaganda consumption still affected the way Eight regarded Octavio. She still respected him (much to the disdain of Three, who frankly, couldn't be less done with his shit,) and still saw him as a worthy combatant but… even rose colored lenses couldn't protect him from objective reality; the reality that it was astounding he'd try attacking with easily reflectable fists a second damn time.

Wait, Eight was getting off track. Back to her frustrating crush. Why was it frustrating? Well… several reasons including but not limited to: There was no way Three felt the same way, if she found out how Eight felt everything would be really awkward forever, Eight was still sorting herself out on the surface and throwing romance in the mix would complicate everything, she was still dealing with some of the emotional aftermath of all the Kamabo and DeepSea Metro nonsense and she wasn't even sure she was able to pursue a relationship…

Damn these butterflies in her stomach. Damn the blush tinging her cheeks. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Three was grumpy, and sarcastic, and tired. She was rough on the edges and secretly really fragile. She had a lot of baggage and was sometimes difficult to talk to. But… She was also a huge sweetheart. Secretly, of course. She kept her true self under wraps most the time, but when her emotional self did show, Eight was simply swept away by how gentle and caring the older cephalopod could be.

Not to mention how pretty she was, like wow. You'd think someone who got shot at for a living wouldn't have such soft skin or beautiful eyes but… damn it, damn it, damn it, stop.

Eight breathed a tired sigh and stared up at the ceiling. She'd woken up about an hour ago - nightmares were a bitch to deal with - and hadn't much to do but wait patiently for Three to wake up. Which, unfortunately for the octoling, wouldn't be for quite a while longer.

Pulling out her phone - a device which Three had insisted on buying for her despite Eight adamantly assuring her she didn't need too… especially given Eight's iffy feelings regarding phones in general - she checked the time. It was about three forty in the morning…

Ugh.

Well, while she had her phone out, she figured she may as well use it to pass the time. It could take her mind off of Three, or Kamabo, or Octavio, or the many many things she didn't want to be thinking about.

Let's see here…

She scrolled through some of the applications she'd been told to install. Three had put some "video games" on there for her; a form a inkling entertainment. They were pretty fun, Eight supposed. Though she wasn't very good at them. There was essential stuff like clocks, calendars, calculators and so forth. Nothing worth looking at now. Then there was… Inkstagram.

Three hadn't been the one to insist she get this particular program. That had been Pearl and Marina, saying it was a better way to keep in touch than the old chat log they'd been using in the Metro. Plus, Marina had informed, it was a good time killer. Three hadn't seemed thrilled about it, saying something along the lines of "Only a couple weeks on the surface and you're already brainwashing her with shitty social media garbage." Which had been a frightening thing to hear. The last time she'd encountered brainwashing was combat against sanitized Octarians and a temporarily possessed Agent 3. Which had been, for lack of better words, absolutely horrific.

Of course, she'd been informed that Inkstagram was not something designed to erase one's free will, (though Three would beg to differ,) but rather, a platform for talking to people and sharing pictures. Which Three hated because she's Three and she's a grump who hates a lot of things.

Which was pretty fair, really.

Eight opened the app and… she didn't understand anything she was looking at. Too many people and things she didn't care about, too many dumb comments, just too much on the screen. Pearl and Marina had already taken it upon themselves to create an account for her, so that was already taken care of. All there was now was to scroll mindlessly through her "feed," and wait for morning to come.

A few minutes in, and she heard a little ding notification. At first it confused her, but then she recalled a similar sound alerting her to the presence of new chat logs that she'd read underground. Figuring it was something similar, she searched for a moment to find where one might go to read entries.

Her search brought her to the top right of her screen, which when tapped, brought up some kind of request.

MC_Princess wants to send you a message.

There was an accept and a deny button. Eight hadn't anything better to do, so figured, why not? She hit accept.

MC_Princess: Holy shit, Eight? What're you up to this late?

MC_Princess: Sorry, I just saw that you were online and like…

MC_Princess: Whatever. How's it hangin' kiddo? This is Pearl, btw.

Eight hadn't ever practiced typing on this tiny, virtual keyboard so it took her a few minutes, but eventually she managed to get out a good reply.

Agent8: Uh… not much I guess? Couldn't sleep.

Agent8: Why are you awake? If you don't mind my asking.

MC_Princess: Ah, me and Rina were up pretty late workshopping a new bop. It took for fucking ever, but this shit is gonna be fire. The bae fell asleep about 30 minutes ago, and I'm just about wrapping up.

Eight furrowed her brow while she read the reply. She'd known Pearl for months now, yet still, she could barely decipher what in the name of Zapfish she was on about sometimes. Not that Eight minded her hip, fresh lingo. It could be fairly amusing. Plus, she was extremely fond of the idol duo, and enjoyed talking to them immensely, regardless of how much she could or couldn't understand them.

Though… she was fond of them in a much different way than she was fond of Three. She saw them as maternal, almost. Which was actually really, really weird to think about. Eight's memories were still fuzzy and partially put together, but distant recollections of an Octarian called "mom" gave her an aching, nostalgic feeling.

Agent8: If you say so.

Agent8: Also what is a "the bae"?

MC_Princess: I forget you've lived underground your whole life.

MC_Princess: Marina is "the bae." It basically just means she's my girlfriend.

Agent8: I see…

Something then dawned on the young octoling. Something she should've considered ages ago. Pearl and Marina know about romance. Plus Marina is an Octarian refugee just like her, dating an inkling who, according to Maria, was too good to be true. They could offer some insight into Eight's problem… Although Marina was asleep, and Eight didn't wish to wake her. Though the older octoling's mature - and far more Octarian - perspective would've been appreciated, Eight wanted answers, now.

Agent8: Hey Pearl…? Could I ask you about something?

MC_Princess: Shoot

Okay… Eight took a deep breath and began steadily typing. The combination of being inexperienced with text, and unsure how to correctly ask what needed to be asked, resulted in a pretty long while before she got out her response.

Agent8: Okay so… you know how I've been staying with Three?

MC_Princess: Yeah?

Agent8: Er… well like…

MC_Princess: She didn't do something did she? I mean, I trust her and she seems cool I guess, but I swear to Cod if she does anything to hurt you.

Definitely maternal, Eight thought warmly.

Agent8: No nothing like that. Actually… so… you know how Marina and you are together? How do you… y'know?

Agent8: Or like… How did you know how you felt? Or… How did you know you wanted to pursue it?

MC_Princess: Um…?

MC_Princess: Wait…

MC_Princess: WAIT

MC_Princess: WAIT A DAMN FUCKING MINUTE

MC_Princess: EIGHT DO YOU HAVE A THING FOR THREE?

MC_Princess: Oooh shiiiit you do don't you? I should've known something was up. She looks at you like you're a priceless artifact. You're both so obviously into it! Damn I'm oblivious.

That simple statement brought back a lot of Eight's confusing, conflicting emotions. Three looked at her like that? Really? No, that wasn't possible. At first, Eight hadn't even thought the older girl liked her at all. She was sure Three only tolerated her in her home out of necessity. Of course, as the weeks went by, Eight had more than accepted that Three genuinely cared about her as a friend, (for whatever reason,) but no way in hell did those feelings transcend wholesome, platonic, affection.

But there was something else there. A spark of hope. It was small… but it was something. A flicker of beautiful light in the darkness, which for a mere brief moment provided warmth and respite from the shadows and the doubts which plagued her mind. But only for a moment.

Agent8: Really? She looks at me special? I haven't noticed anything…

MC_Princess: I'll take your lack of rebuttal as confirmation that you do in fact, have a crush on that dork.

MC_Princess: And hell yeah man. Me and Rina never thought too much of it, but yeah. Not to mention how you look at her. You're like a clingy puppy.

MC_Princess: Now that I think about it, you two would be pretty cute together. Hell yeah, you should ask her out. Just know that if she breaks your heart, I'm grabbing my dualies and hunting her sorry ass down.

Eight blinked, waves of heat were filling every inch of her body. Her chest felt warm, her stomach fluttered, and her face burned with bright pink blush. Appealing though the idea was, she couldn't just up and ask Three on a date, could she? For one, she hardly knew how dates operated. Romance, as said, wasn't a priority back in the Octarian military. What little of it there was, it likely worked a little different than inkling romance. Cultural differences and all that. Besides, she'd come to Pearl for serious advice, not blind support. Eight felt her gut tighten, and nervously she started to reply.

Agent8: I'll admit, that makes me happy to hear… more the parts where we're cute together and she looks at me nice. Less so you hunting her down. But um….

Agent8: The reason I ask though… is cause I don't know if I should… ? Or like… I don't know if I even can…

MC_Princess: What do you mean?

It was so hard to explain. But Eight tried her best to put her feelings into words.

Agent8: I don't know it's just… How do we even know she feels the same? If she doesn't it could mess everything up. And I don't know if I trust myself in a relationship. I still need to work myself out I can't just… go after someone else, right? Besides… Octatians aren't exactly known for romance.

Five, terrible mind-numbing minutes passed with no reply from Pearl. Had she fallen asleep maybe? It was possible… glancing at the time, it was now around four in the morning. Maybe she decided that Eight was beyond her help? No, Pearl cared about her, she wouldn't just… give up like that. Damn, Eight needed to get it together, she could feel her nerves fizzling out with each passing moment.

Then, a sound like an angel's choir; a message notification.

MC_Princess: Eight you listen and you listen good, aight? I'm not usually one for real talkin' but damn it, Marina's asleep and she's too cute to wake up so I'll temporarily take over as the adult-y one. You need to give yourself more credit, kid. First of all, from an outsider's perspective, all I can say is Three looks VERY lovey dovey when she's with you. I don't talk to her much one on one, but she's kinda a grumpy asshole and when she's with you she seems… Happy? And remember that time someone called you a war criminal and she deadass threatened to break their face in with her heel? Yeah. Think about it. And don't even start with this "I'm not good enough" or "I can't trust myself" garbage. You're a hella fucking sweet girl, and you'd never hurt Three on purpose, and I'm willing to bet my many music awards she's more understanding than you're making her out to be. Chick is like… a secret agent or some shit, you need patience and perseverance for that nonsense. I'd understand if you needed to sort yourself out first, or if you just weren't interested at the moment, but that doesn't seem like the case. And as for that last steaming pile of BS like… You're a really nice, awesome girl, Eight. And Marina is one of the most amazing people I've ever known. High-key, saying shit like "Octarians aren't known to love" or whatever the fuck, sounds like the sort of speciesist propaganda old turf war nutjobs spew.

MC_Princess: Sorry, that was pretty long, huh? Didn't mean to legit write an essay. But for real, you're a great girl and anyone would be lucky to have you.

Reading Pearl's doozy of a reply had started as nerve wracking. But with each passing word, Eight found herself feeling lighter and lighter, giddier and more cared for than she's ever felt in her entire life. She had friends in the barracks. At least… she thinks she did. Thinking about old loved ones always came with a fair bit of pain, so she never tried too hard to remember. But this… Odd, Eight thought, that one can cry yet be totally happy. She's no stranger to tears but… these tears didn't feel too bad. She read the message again over and over, and each time she did her smile grew wider, her tears fell fresher and she felt so much warmer.

What a lovely feeling it was, to have people who care.

MC_Princess: Yo Eight? You good? C'mon girl, don't leave me on read like that.

Eight noticed with mild amusement, that she'd spent over five minutes reading Pearl's words of kindness. Opting not to leave her good friend waiting, Eight starting typing.

Agent8: Sorry, didn't mean to go quiet. Just… that meant a lot to me. Like wow, you don't even know. Like I'm for real crying right now. In a good way though. Which is kind of weird, I didn't know you could do that.

MC_Princess: Lol, don't go sobbing on me. You feel better though? Think you wanna try testing the waters with Three? It's cool if you seriously don't want to. But all the reasons you gave were full of crap.

Eight smiled, a fuzzy blush crept over her cheeks; filling them with pinkish honeyglow.

Agent8: I think… I think maybe I am. Thank you Pearl, for everything.

Agent8: I'll talk to you later. It's late, you should be asleep.

MC_Princess: Word. Well… let me know what you end up doing. I'm sure Marina will wanna know what's up too.

Agent8: Sounds good.

MC_Princess: And Eight?

Agent8: ?

MC_Princess: You rock, kid. For real. I ain't just saying that. You're like… one of my and Marina's favorite people and I know for a fact Three thinks so too. Go kiss the girl and on the day of your wedding you'd better fucking thank me.

MC_Princess: Night Eight. Good luck.

Eight was only vaguely aware of what a wedding was, but still, that felt really embarrassing to read. Ignoring that however, that whole conversation had been really, really nice. Helpful too. Whatever Three's issue with Inkstagram was, Eight couldn't tell. Because that was pretty great.

Filled with newfound determination, the octoling set about imagining all the possible places she could ask Three on a date. Where should they go? How should she ask? What would she wear? What would Three wear? The inkling wasn't much for dressing fancy, but Eight didn't care. She'd look adorable in anything. Squealing like a lovestruck schoolgirl, Eight hugged a pillow tight. She was feeling pretty grateful to the nightmare that had woke her.

Of course, nightmares sucked but…without it she wouldn't have grabbed her phone. She wouldn't have talked to Pearl. She was actually going to do it.

Tomorrow, she was going to ask Three on a date.