Squidmas

Everything in life has a purpose.
Your assessments determine where you will thrive in life.
Your schooling ends when you have the knowledge needed to succeed.
Your position is tailored to your skills and society's needs.
Even gifts have their reason.
Items without a purpose are trash.
So are Octarians.

Marina slips away while Pearl is still hanging up her coat and scarf and fancy mittens. She climbs the stairs to her guest room and collapses onto the bed, burying her face in the pillows.

Octivus. She mentioned Octivus. On camera, on air. Sure, she covered, but that slip-if any of this is real, if she's in Inkopolis and wearing the glasses or if she really escaped, then anyone, everyone will know now. Sure, Pearl covered for her on air, but now that they're here... how long until she comes, demanding answers? How long until she realizes who, what, Marina really is?

Behind her closed eyes, she watches it play out. Pearl's slowly dawning realization. Her denial, morphing into shock when Marina can't find the words to deny it, when she puts all the pieces together. The disgust. And then she'll reach for her dualies...

Marina pushes herself up before her mind can see any more. She doesn't want to see it before she has to, before it's real. She should focus on music. She hasn't listened to anything in a couple days; between the news and coming up with the next splatfest and the twist of worry in her gut about the squid sisters, she hasn't had time.

But Splattack is too violent for her thoughts, and Now or Never makes her twitchy, and even Calamari Inkantation does nothing but remind her she doesn't belong here. And everything on the radio is Squidmas, Squidmas, Squidmas.

Marina presses hard on her headphones and clenches her eyes shut. Maybe listening isn't the answer. She has her keytar with her, and some turntables; she could practice.

But every song sounds wrong, and tiny, and terrible without Pearl's voice beside her, and soon enough, Marina gives up. She just plays scales, over and over, letting the repetition numb away her thoughts until her stomach growls and she realizes it's past dinner time.

Dinner at the Houzuki's is served precisely at six every evening and lasts a full hour, whether or not Pearl's parents are home to enforce it. Right now, unless her clock's stopped working, it's almost midnight. She has to be back at the studio in eight hours. And no one's come to see her.

Marina's gut clenches. Is... did Pearl figure it out already? Is she too horrified, too disgusted to even face her? Did-

Marina's door slams open and Pearl stumbles in, arms overflowing with multicolored streamers and wrapping paper and she drops several dangly ornaments twisted into eights. "Squidnet says Octivus was an Octarian holiday that's still celebrated by salmonids and about an eighth of the jellies and maybe one or two percent of inklings," she says, and sneezes; glitter flies off the top. "And it goes for eight days, and the first day is tomorrow, why didn't you tell me?"

Marina stares.

Pearl drops the pile of stuff on the ground and sorts it out: garland, and decorations, all marked with 8's and dangling octopuses and-and-Pearl looks up at her, grinning. "It said every day had a theme, but I couldn't tell which was what, but one was for traveling to be with family, so that's gotta be day one. And there's a gift for every day. So, it's a bit early, and I didn't wrap it, but, surprise!" Pearl holds up a pair of fuzzy socks, striped in shocking shades of pink and green with bells sewn into the toes. "Happy Octivus!... wait, why are you crying?"

Marina shakes her head, tears streaming from her eyes—unnoticed, unbidden, unstoppable. "But... you celebrate Squidmas," she says. "And I thought..." she can't finish the sentence, can't tell Pearl what she's been thinking, all these hours.

Pearl takes a step forward, holds the socks out to her. "But you celebrate Octivus. Or celebrated. So let's do both!"

Marina can't help herself: she bends down and grabs Pearl in a hug, pulling the inkling against her and burying her face in the spot where Pearl's shoulder meets her neck. When she tries to speak, it comes out in Octarian. "I don't deserve this."

Pearl returns the hug after a moment, rubbing Marina's back. "It's... uh... are these happy tears? It's okay, Rina. You're fine. You're fresh, even." Pearl gives a nervous laugh.

"I don't deserve you," Marina whispers, still in Octarian. "I don't deserve any of this. I'm your enemy, I helped steal zapfish, I, I," she hiccups. "I was just thinking you were going to splat me, and-and is this real? Is this really real? It can't be real, it can't, I know that, but then you go and treat me like this and I wish it were real. I wish you were real."

Pearl doesn't let go, keeps rubbing Marina's back, until Marina stops babbling in Octarian and just sobs. And then stays there, quiet for once in her life, until Marina pulls away, scrubbing at her eyes.

Pearl looks at her hands. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to-to upset you. To bring up bad memories, or-"

"No," Marina says, and grabs Pearl again, picking her up this time and hugging so hard Pearl squeaks. "This is-this was- I didn't expect-" Inklish fails her again, and she shakes her head, her tentacles tickling against Pearl's, and searches for the words. "Thank you so much."

Pearl hugs her back. "Anytime, and don't you forget it."

Marina just... stays there, the warmth of how lucky she is glowing in her chest, until she realizes she picked Pearl up and is still hugging her. She sets Pearl down at once and takes a step back, ink rushing to turn her cheeks teal. "Sorry."

Pearl waves a hand, her cheeks ink pink. "Rina, you can hug me anytime you want. And it's not too early for your gift anymore." She picks the socks off the floor, holds them out.

Marina stretches out her hand, but stops without taking them. "But I don't have any for you..."

"You can give me things on Squidmas," says Pearl. "Octivus is your holiday, so that's when I'll give you stuff. Now come on! Tell me all about it."

Marina smiles at last. It feels like a relief; it feels like home. It feels like freedom. "Okay," she says, and sits on the bed, Pearl beside her.

Neither of them gets any sleep.