She'd rather be a forgettable blur than a crystal-clear eyesore. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for rescuing me."

The front door of the apartment swung open as Emily's tailbone dug into the handle. Keys clinked and jingled and collided with wood, manicured black nails scraped down the wall, and hot breaths met the cool air, fast and interlaced with moans.

Jessica worked her hands nimbly, slipping her fingers under Em's dress and sliding them up her legs, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs with light taps and tickles. She was so focused on her work, in fact, that she forgot to breathe for close to a minute. All that mattered was her lips touching Emily's, her hands whispering over the soft skin underneath Emily's dress, her foot kicking the door closed behind them.

Emily was working efficiently, too. She had already slipped her fingers behind Jessica's neck and unclasped her bra. Now she was unzipping her dress and yanking it down, and—

"Oh… oh my god." Em leaped away, slamming into the wall and wincing.

"What?" Jess pulled back, breathless. Her fingers were removed from the warmth and nirvana below the waistband of Emily's panties, and now her hands had nothing better to do besides wring themselves nervously. "What's wrong?"

"What the…" Emily gulped and pointed a shaking finger at the other girl. "What the hell is wrong with your skin?"

"What…" Jess repeated dumbly. Whatever else she had been planning on saying died on her tongue. She retreated farther into the apartment— one with a wide foyer and polished oak floors, so undoubtedly Emily's— and bit back a cry.

Emily loomed closer now, her accusatory finger still jabbing harshly in the air at the blonde. "Your chest, and your shoulders, and your face! Holy shit. How did I not see it before?" She leaned in close, gorgeous brown eyes taking in and scanning every imperfect line like words on a book page. "You're ugly."

"No." Jessica's throat was raw. It felt like she'd been crying for hours, but her face was dry. Her tonsils felt swollen, and her teeth were damn close to being ground into a paste.

"No? Look at yourself. Fucking look!" Hands enclosed on both of her shoulders, whirling her around to face a conveniently-placed mirror. Jess was all disheveled, her bra gone and gown pulled halfway down so her upper torso was exposed to the bitingly cold air of the empty apartment. "Disgusting," Emily spat into her ear.

"No." Jess shook her head harder and harder until the image reflected in front of her was no longer visible. She'd rather be a forgettable blur than a crystal-clear eyesore.

Hours later when she wrenched herself free from the nightmare, she was still shaking. Her bed was chilly and unwelcoming, with sheets stitched from frost and pillows like blocks of ice. She slid out and stumbled into the bathroom.

The bluish glow from the hallway nightlight was enough. She looped two fingers in the collar of her old, paint-splattered t-shirt and pulled it down to show her chest. The red ribbons were still there, tattooed onto her skin in all their puffy and gracefully asymmetrical glory. She ran her fingers over them, feeling how deep they drove into her skin, through all the layers and layers. She wondered if they reached her ribs, marring the bone with bruises. It would explain how breathing made her lungs feel like blenders filled with knives.

For class the next day, she threw on some leggings and a worn green flannel that she'd gotten from the Goodwill near her house at some point during high school. Since then, it still held on to all of its buttons and maintained the perfect soft-to-the-touch feel that no brand-new shirt could.

Twenty-six minutes later, she was slouched across from Emily in the Starbucks at the edge of campus. Two hot cups of coffee sat between them on the sticky table, one with two shots of espresso and the other filled with cream and sugar, one with the lid off to let it cool and the other with the lid on to keep in the steam and soothe a particular sore throat.

"You good?" Emily hummed around the edge of her open cup. Jess watched her teeth nibble and play with the paper lip, bending it and leaving little marks. Jess wanted to be that helpless paper coffee cup underneath Emily's maroon-lipstick-painted mouth.

"Yeah," she finally replied. It was clear Emily wasn't fully into the question. It had been casually spoken, a small thought in an otherwise crowded mind that had just so happened to pick up the absence of Jessica's normally bubbly personality. She was never the most perky in the morning— neither of them were— but still Emily had noticed something was a little off. It counted, right? Jess told herself it counted, if only to make the warm, fuzzy blanket wrap tighter around her heart.

She wondered if the scars reached her heart. Was her heart bruised?

Emily scrolled on her phone, long thumb extending and contracting on the screen as countless photos zoomed past under the colorful logo of Instagram. Jess watched her for a long moment, then turned to read the "CAUTION: HOT" warning etched on the lid of her coffee again and again as if it was the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

"You study for Lang last night?" Jess asked just to fill the dead air between them with some substance.

"Mhm," Emily said. "Read the whole damn unit three times over and contemplated dropping out of life forever. Why?"

Jess gave her a bland laugh. "No… I'm just pretty sure I'm gonna fail."

Em rolled her eyes. "This isn't high school anymore, sweetie." Her thumb froze for a second, and she squinted at her phone screen, then double-tapped the photo and moved on. "Now when we say 'I think I'm gonna fail,' we will actually fail."

Jess wondered if there was a specific reason Emily chose this place over an Ivy League. She could wonder herself to death but would never get an answer.

She lowered her head again. Zero eye contact. Good. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I can't wait to see the shitstorm."

Emily was not a product of her nightmares, Jess told herself as she stripped off the flannel and leggings at the end of the day. Emily was a product of her dreams, a contributing factor who just so happened to be intimidating as hell, Jess told herself as she crawled under the covers. Her fingers shook as they slipped past her underwear into dangerous territory. Emily was a dream.

The next day was Starbucks again. Today Emily purchased a scone as well, and they sat one table over from their usual one in the corner, which was taken. Emily nibbled her scone thoughtfully like how she nibbled the edge of her open coffee cup. The two of them played footsie under the table, ballet flats tangling with old Uggs around the table's tricky legs. Jess scrolled on her phone. Jess took the lid off her coffee cup today.

The next day was a Saturday. Emily tossed one of her short, very minimal dresses at Jess when she mistakenly asked to borrow something for the party. For a solid fifteen minutes Jess stood behind the closed bathroom door, looking at this dress that would be impossible for her to wear. Every other detail was correct: they were the same size, they both looked good in blue, they both adored the lace design.

But Emily didn't have red ribbons on her chest and scars on her ribs and a bruised heart. Jess bent over the sink and cried softly and mutely until she didn't have enough air to cry anymore.

"Dammit, Jess, you're taking too long. I'm coming in."

Panic seared through Jessica's blood like flames. She jumped back from the sink, watching helplessly as the door swung open, the rusted old lock easily giving way to a strong push from Emily's shoulder.

"You're not even dressed," Emily pointed out the obvious. Then her gaze traveled up to find swollen red eyes. "Uh, what's wrong?"

"I… I can't wear this," Jess sniffled.

"Huh?" Em stepped forward, taking the dress from her hands. It looked like the skimpiest piece of fabric Jess had ever seen in her life, when before it would have been the cutest thing ever that she'd be lucky enough to grab off the hanger. "I thought we were the same size."

Jess shrugged lamely. "I… decided I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"I just don't. It's…"

"It's…?"

She spun and faced the wall. "Why does it matter? I just don't wanna wear it, Em. I'll find something else."

Jess waited several seconds, then assumed it would be safe to turn around and leave. But Emily was still standing in the doorway, blocking her sole method of escape. "I love you, Jess. You're gonna tell me what the problem is, and you'll tell me now. I'm not just letting this slip by. You've worn this dress before."

"… 's too low-cut," Jess said.

"Too what?"

Her soft hands curled into rock-hard fists. "It's too low-cut!" she yelled.

"And since when has that stopped you?"

"I just don't want my boobs hanging out. Is that a crime?"

Emily sauntered closer, crossing her arms. "The last time I checked, that was most definitely a felony in Jess Land." When her brief pause earned no giggle or smirk, she tilted her head and frowned. "Jess. Are you being serious? What's really the matter?"

Jess turned sideways so that she was looking into the mirror over the sink. She could see Emily in her peripheral vision, but she was just a smudge with no discernable expression. Just the way Jess liked it.

"I can't wear things like that anymore," she said quietly. "Not since… the mountain."

The smudge in the outer reaches of her vision made a sudden movement, and it took half a second for Jess to realize that movement was to step closer to her.

After that night, it had taken a grand total of two weeks for Jess and Emily to start speaking to each other again. They hugged and talked shit out. Emily ended things with Matt and Jess gently broke things off with Mike. In the ten months since, they had grown inexplicably closer. But Emily still lacked any knowledge of the red ribbons.

Until now.

When that sudden movement became caressing hands on Jessica's cheeks, the smudge turned into Emily again. They closed the gap together, their lips crashing in an explosion of symphony. It was a representation of healing and everything right in the world and healing.

Then she felt cold air on her chest. Emily's primly-prepared outfit was already showing signs of imperfection, and that meant there was no going back. So she had taken the liberty of starting the task of removing Jessica's shirt.

But.

"Oh my god," Emily whispered, and fuck, it was just like her dream, all over again—

But what she got instead was "Why didn't you tell me?" and an intake of breath sharp enough to make Jessica's lungs ache again.

"I wasn't brave enough. They're ugly," she stated simply. There was no point in dodging the truth. They had already made it too far. They were both in too deep. No going back.

And then there were lips tracing down her collarbone and following the uneven pattern of the red ribbons. Emily's lips danced and twirled over her scars, kissing the ache away and making all five senses fuzzy and bleary.

"They are not ugly, Jessica. They're a symbol of survival. You fucking lived. And that's enough to make you beautiful." Emily straightened to look in her eyes. "Jess, being your friend again is the only thing that's made these past months bearable. I'll never be able to thank you enough for rescuing me."

Jess nestled her face in the warm space between Emily's neck and left shoulder. No words seemed good enough to form a decent response to that. All she could find were "You saved me too."

Too soon, Em moved away and leaned back against the grimy sink to begin undoing the straps of her heels. She had thin no-show socks on underneath, but she stripped those off also. Jess watched her during this, noting the way Emily's slim shoulder peeked out from the droopy sleeve of her top, the way her collarbone jutted out against the flawless pale skin. Envy burned in her gut.

And then the jealousy was extinguished. Emily held one of her feet up so that Jess could see.

"You think you're the only one who walked away from that place with anything missing?" She wiggled her toes, and Jessica's eyes widened at the gap were two digits should've been. "I wore those stupid thin boots, thinking more for style than comfort and, well, sub-zero temperatures in the mines." Her other foot had half a toe gone as well.

Jess could do nothing but gape. "Wha… I- I didn't—"

"Took a little physical therapy, but walking isn't hard. As you can see, I still totally slay with heels." Emily placed her foot back on the ground and embraced Jess. "Listen… I know that all of us lost something that night. There's still pieces of everyone on that mountain. But what matters is the majority of us are still in one whole piece. So trust me, I don't give a shit about any silly scars. As long as I have the rest of you to enjoy. Okay?"

Jess nodded. "Okay." Pause. "Could we… um… skip the party, maybe?"

Em grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Jess was almost positive this wasn't a dream, but just to be sure, she didn't pinch herself.