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Noelle woke up on a Monday morning to the pale chill of winter sunlight spilling through her blinds, brushing across her skin like the faintest caress of ice. She sat up almost mechanically, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, muscles stiff, mind still half imbued in drowsiness.
When her vision cleared, her gaze landed on the calendar pinned to her wall—a swirl of icy blues and shimmering whites, snowflakes frozen mid fall, the 25th circled in red fading marker. The month written across the top caught her eyes, and her chest tightened; a small, sharp ache that pulsed with memory.
For a brief moment, the walls, the ceiling, even the pale light itself seemed to dissolve. Her mind wandered, drifting somewhere far away, carrying on the echoes of a familiar voice.
She could hear it, soft and teasing, bright and mischievous; Dess's laugh. It shimmered through her memory like sunlight glistening off rain crusted snow, warm and fleeting all at once.
Noelle lingered on it, letting the sound fill her heart, letting herself sink into that half forgotten warmth before she forced herself out of bed and shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom.
On the sink lay a hair brush, its bristles slightly frayed at the edges from age.
Her fingers closed around it, and a memory flared to life.
A much smaller Noelle stood on a step stool in the bathroom, craning her neck to catch her reflection in the mirror. She had tried, for the first time, to brush her own hair; however, her inexperience had only created knots and tangles that refused to yield. She groaned, frustrated, as a sharp tug sent a sting crawling across her scalp.
The bathroom door creaked open.
“Elly, you’ve been in here for like... twenty minutes—”
Noelle shrieked, nearly toppling off of the stool.
“What... the fuck did you do?” Dess mumbled, trying to stifle a chuckle, eyes narrowing at the mess before her.
Tears gathered in Noelle’s eyes, and Dess’s smile immediately faltered. She moved quickly, kneeling beside her and taking the brush gently from Noelle’s trembling hands.
“Here, stop. I’ve got it. Stay still,” Dess said softly.
Her hands were warm, moving deliberately through Noelle’s hair, untangling stubborn knots with a mix of control and careful tenderness that made Noelle’s stomach twist and flutter.
“I said hold still,” Dess teased, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Stop squirming, silly. It tickles, doesn’t it?”
“A little,” Noelle whispered, heart hammering against her ribs. Dess continued brushing until she could run her own fingers smoothly through Noelle’s hair without catching a single snag. Then, with a practiced hand, she parted her sisters golden locks into two neat sections, tying them into low pigtails that stopped just above her shoulders.
Once finished, Dess stepped back, tilting her head fondly, as if admiring a work of art.
“Such a cutie,” she teased, poking Noelle’s cheek playfully. Noelle flushed, swatting her sister’s hand away, cheeks warm, eyes downcast.
The memory lingered even as Noelle’s present-day hands moved on autopilot through her damp hair, brushing slowly, as if trying to mimic the exact warmth of that distant morning.
Noelle set the brush down slowly, letting her fingers linger on the familiar shape, still warm with memory. The mirror reflected her face—the skin beneath her fur, visibly pale in the winter light, cheeks still tinged pink from the memory—and for a brief moment, she almost expected to see Dess standing there behind her, smirking as usual.
She picked up her toothbrush, glancing at her reflection as she squeezed out the paste. Another memory came rushing back.
Dess had leaned over her shoulder, her warm body close enough that Noelle could smell the faint tang of the cedar wood scented body wash she always used. “You’re scrubbing too hard,” Dess had said softly, one hand brushing the back of Noelle’s own. “You’ll scratch your gums. Let me show you.”
Noelle had hesitated, her brush paused mid stroke. She allowed Dess to take over anyway.
She had guided Noelle’s hand, positioning it carefully, correcting the angle, the pressure, each motion deliberate. Her fingers brushed against Noelle’s, lingering just a tad longer than necessary, a teasing warmth that made Noelle’s chest tighten. Every word was soft but commanding, carrying the unspoken expectation that Noelle would listen and obey.
“You see? That’s better,” Dess said, eyes glinting with something that made Noelle both thrilled and nervous.
Noelle had nodded, heart racing, cheeks flushing pink from the physical contact. Every small gesture—the tilt of Dess’s head, the movement of her fingers, the faint scent of her shampoo mixed with the warmth of her body—pressed against her like sunlight on cold skin.
Dess had leaned closer again, voice dropping softly. “You’re always so tense. Relax a little. Smile for me.”
Noelle had done as she was told, a tentative, shy smile spreading across her face. Dess grinned, tilting her head, and for a second, everything had seemed perfectly right in the world.
The memory lingered as Noelle scrubbed her teeth now, the toothpaste bitter and sharp in her mouth. Her fingers fumbled slightly on her toothbrush, almost as if she were trying to reach back through time, to guide herself with Dess’s invisible hand. A tiny laugh flitted through her mind, Dess’s voice, and she had to bite back a smile. A tiny ache that came with the realization that the hands which once guided her were now gone.
She rinsed her mouth, staring at the mirror again. The reflection showed a girl caught between now and then, between memory and reality, chest tight with a yearning she couldn’t quite define.
Dess was everywhere and nowhere, all at once.
--
Noelle sat at the kitchen table, staring down at the dry, flavorless piece of toast on her plate. She nibbled mechanically, the quiet of the house pressing in on her. Her mother had left hours ago for work, and her father was still in the hospital. It was just her, all alone in the manor, originally built for a family of four.
The sunlight fell through the blinds, scattering across the table in stripes. Crumbs clung to the toast and to the corner of her lip, and Noelle brushed them away with a small, trembling finger.
The table was long, warm, full of laughter. She was smaller then, seated in the chair next to Dess, the morning sun painting everything gold.
Dess had reached across without asking, pulling Noelle’s plate a little closer before cutting into the pancakes for her with deliberate precision. Noelle was more than capable of doing it herself, but she didn’t protest. She never did.
She sliced the pancakes into neat, even pieces, movements careful, almost meticulous. Then she nudged the plate back into place—though not before scooting her own chair a few inches closer. Close enough that their shoulders brushed, and Noelle could feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her sweater.
They talked easily as they ate. Small things, school gossip, teasing remarks, and Dess’s dry commentary slipping in between bites. Noelle found herself smiling more than she meant to, her guard lowered by the comfort of routine.
And then—when their parents laughter rose just a little too loud, and the clink of ceramics filled the room—Dess’s hand drifted lower, disappearing beneath the table.
The touch was light. A slow, idle sweep of her palm along Noelle’s inner thigh, followed by a gentle squeeze that lingered half a second too long to be accidental.
Noelle froze.
Heat bloomed beneath her skin, tight and sudden, curling low in her stomach in a way that made it difficult to breathe.
The memory fractured there.
Back in the present, the kitchen was silent. The toast in her hand had gone cold.
Noelle blinked, breath catching slightly. The house around her felt cavernous now; empty chairs, untouched mugs, no laughter to soften the air.
She took a deep breath, attempting to compose herself as much as possible before standing, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and leaving the house.
--
The walk to school was fine. Nothing new, nothing exciting. Just fine.
Lifting her legs and forcing each step forward felt like a massive chore, almost as if there were weights attached to her hooves. Still, she kept going anyway. She’d trudge through the thoughts in her mind, go to class, do her work, and go home. Just like always.
Her hooves sank lightly into the soft, thin sheets of snow with each step she took, and her gaze fell on the smooth, untouched path ahead.
And then it came; a memory so vivid it made the chill in her chest grow warm.
She was smaller then, bundled in an oversized red scarf that smelled faintly of cigarettes and pine leaves. The morning sun glinted off of the ice, turning the world into a blinding maze of white and gold.
Dess’s hoofprints stretched ahead of her, carving a path for her through the snow.
Noelle followed carefully, step by step, fitting herself into each impression Dess left behind.
As they walked, Dess shifted slightly, moving just ahead of her, causing the sunlight to disappear, shrouding Noelle in the darkness of her sisters shadow.
A moment ago, it had been warm, the sunlight spilling across the snow in shimmering gold, reflecting up into her eyes. Now it was gone, swallowed by the shape of Dess’s back as she walked in front of her, broad enough to cast a long shadow over the path.
Noelle didn’t step out of it.
She stayed right where she was, tucked neatly into the space Dess had made for her.
It was easier that way.
She didn’t have to squint against the brightness, or guess where to step next, or worry about slipping on the ice. Everything she needed was already there, laid out for her in quiet, careful certainty.
Dess glanced back at her, smiling softly.
The memory simmered, and Noelle’s gaze lifted.
The sky above her was dull, clouds stretching endlessly in every direction, thick enough to smother any trace of sunlight before it could even reach the ground.
Her eyes drifted downward again.
Only one set of hoofprints, no shadow cast ahead of her, no figure ahead to block the light. No light to block at all.
She allowed a quiet sigh to escape her, and then continued walking.
--
The halls were chaotic, but Noelle could hardly hear anything through the increasingly loud thoughts running through her mind.
Voices overlapped, lockers slammed, shoes squeaked against polished floors—too many sounds all at once. Noelle kept her gaze lowered, clutching her books a little tighter against her chest as she moved through the crowd.
She almost made it to class, until her shoulder collided with something solid.
The impact sent her stumbling backward, her grip faltering as books and pencils slipped from her arms, scattering across the floor in a clatter that felt far too loud.
“Watch where you’re going—”
The voice was sharp. Irritated.
Noelle flinched hard, eyes cast downwards, hands trembling as she scrambled to gather her things.
“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t looking, I—”
Her words tripped over each other, rushed and breathless. She didn’t look up.
“I said, watch it—”
The voice cut off. Silence hung for a beat.
“...Oh.”
Noelle hesitated. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Susie stood over her, her shadow stretching across the floor and spilling over Noelle. For a split second, her expression was still laced with irritation—her brows furrowed, teeth slightly bared—and then it shifted into something softer.
“...Shit. Sorry, Jingles,” Susie muttered, her voice rough and awkward.
She crouched down, grabbing a few of the scattered pencils and holding them out. “Didn’t realize it was you.”
Noelle blinked, face flushed, her hands pausing mid-motion before she reached out, fingers brushing briefly against Susie’s as she took them back.
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “It was my fault, I should’ve been paying attention—”
“Yeah, well,” Susie huffed, looking away, “just... be careful, alright?”
She stood again, lingering for half a second like she might say something else, but decided against it. Instead, she turned and walked off, disappearing back into the crowd of students like nothing had happened.
Noelle stayed where she was, her grip tightening slightly around her books, before her mind began to wander.
She was smaller again.
The cold was softer back then. It clung to her cheeks and the tips of her ears as she walked, her breath curling into the air in little clouds.
The three of them moved down the sidewalk together, their footsteps uneven against the concrete.
Dess walked just ahead, talking about something Noelle wasn't really paying attention to. She listened, even if she didn’t fully follow, her attention drifting more to the sound of her sisters voice than the words themselves.
Kris lingered behind them, far quieter than usual. Almost suspiciously quiet.
Noelle’s gaze dropped, watching the cracks in the pavement pass beneath her hooves—
“Hey, Elly.”
The voice came from right behind her. She turned, and froze upon what she saw; Kris stood there, arms outstretched, something small wriggling between their fingers.
A bug.
It twitched.
Noelle let out a sharp, startled yelp, recoiling immediately.
“KRIS! Get it away—!”
She stumbled back, her foot slipping on a thin patch of ice. The world spun, and then she hit the ground.
She braced herself with her hands, which slid against the rough pavement, skinning her palms and bruising her knees when she fully fell.
The bug dropped from Kris’s hand as they stepped forward quickly, crouching down. Their expression twisted as they tried to say something, but couldn't find the words.
“What the hell is wrong with you!?”
Noelle flinched.
Dess moved frantically, crouching down in front of her so suddenly it was almost jarring, her shadow stretching long across the pavement, blocking the pale winter light.
“Kris.” Dess snapped. “What did you do?”
“...I didn’t think she’d fall,” Kris said, quieter now. They muttered what sounded like an apology before reaching a hand out to Noelle.
Dess shoved their arm away. Kris winced, but said nothing else from that point on.
“Hey,” Dess said, her voice shifting as quickly as her expression. Her eyes were softer now. “Hey, look at me.”
Noelle hesitated before lifting her head.
Dess crouched in front of her, blocking out everything else—the sidewalk, the sky, Kris lingering somewhere just out of view.
“You okay?” she asked.
Noelle nodded quickly, even though her knee still burned. “I-I think so…”
“Lemme see.”
Dess’s hands were already on her, steady and sure as she examined Noelle's palms. Her fingers were warm against the cold, grounding in a way that made Noelle’s shoulders loosen without her realizing.
“Yeah,” Dess muttered. “You scraped them.”
“It’s not that bad,” Noelle said quickly. “Really, I’m okay—”
Dess didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her. Then, suddenly, she shifted.
“Up,” she said.
Noelle blinked. “Wha—?”
But Dess was already moving, arms sliding around her without hesitation.
Noelle’s breath caught as she was lifted off the ground, her arms instinctively wrapping around Dess’s neck as she was lifted into a princess carry.
“D-Dess! I can walk,” Noelle protested.
Noelle’s feet hung uselessly, her weight fully supported, her body pressed close to Dess’s warmth. The cold didn’t bite as much like this.
She didn’t have to watch where she stepped, or think about the ice, or the cracks in the pavement, or where to go next. Dess handled all of it.
Noelle leaned into her without thinking, her face tucked into the crook of her sisters neck.
Dess's grip never loosened as they walked toward the house; if anything, it tightened, as if Dess was afraid Noelle would fall from her grasp.
Later, in the bathroom of the Holiday manor, Noelle sat on the edge of the counter.
Her legs dangled as Dess moved around frantically, searching for the first aid kit.
”Dess, its really not that bad—”
”Found it,”Dess declared before opening the kit and taking out gauze and bandage wrap.
She took one of Noelle's palms into her hand, her gaze settling on the red scraped skin.
”That idiot. If I had my bat I swear I would've—”
”They didn't mean to hurt me,” Noelle mumbled under her breath, avoiding her sisters eyes. ”I'm not mad at them. Really.”
”You could've gotten hurt worse than this. What if you hit your head? You need someone around to watch out for you. Kris doesn't do that. I do.”
Dess's grip on her hand tightened just a little as she continued wrapping the bandages around it.
”They're careless, Elly. Not good for you.”
Dess finished wrapping the bandages on both of Noelle's palms, smoothing them down carefully, allowing her hands to linger in Noelle's for far longer than they needed to.
”There,” she murmured. ”All better.”
The memory dissolved, and the school hallway rushed back in all at once—noise, movement, the sharp hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
Noelle blinked.
She was still on the floor.
Her books were clutched tightly to her chest, her fingers curled into the edges like she’d forgotten how to let go.
Footsteps approached.
Noelle jerked her head towards the source of the sound, then saw a hand outstretched toward her. She hesitated before looking up at the person standing before her.
Kris stood there, expression unreadable, their hand still extended.
Noelle stared at their hand for a second too long before reaching out, letting herself be pulled to her feet. Kris let go as soon as she found her footing.
”...Thanks,” Noelle murmured.
Kris gave a small shrug, then turned, disappearing back into the stream of students without another word.
--
The rest of the school day passed in a blur.
Noelle moved through her classes on autopilot, her head bowed, only speaking when spoken to. Words drifted past her ears without lodging in her mind, lessons repeating themselves in a dull, monotonous loop. She answered questions when prompted, wrote notes when required, packed and unpacked her bag at the proper times.
The final bell rang, and she moved with the stream of students, hooves heavy, shoulders slumped. She moved almost robotically, following the familiar path out the doors and into the crisp winter air.
The walk home was slow. Snow crunched lightly beneath her feet, the cold biting at her ankles and fingertips.
The streets were mostly quiet, a few scattered students and neighbors passing by, their voices fading before they even reached her.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the ground. She barely noticed the cold in her ears or the way her scarf had slipped down around her neck.
For a moment, she thought she might see someone walking ahead, a familiar shape she could follow. But there was nothing. Only the crunch of her own hooves in the thin snow, and the dull, gray sky above.
By the time Noelle reached her home, the air had grown colder. Her gaze lifted briefly; and then she let out a quiet, disappointed sigh.
Her mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
Dread pooled low in her stomach at the thought of another night of solitude.
She pushed the front door open and stepped inside. The house felt cavernous, empty in every corner.
Her shoulders slumped the instant she was out of the public eye. The weight she had been carrying all day collapsed onto her all at once, exhaustion finally taking over.
Each step up the stairs was heavier than the last, muscles aching, hooves dragging along the worn edges of the steps.
She didn’t have the energy to think about dinner, didn’t care to change out of her school clothes, didn’t even slow her breathing. Her movements were deliberate but drained, as though her body was moving on its own. She just wanted to go to her room and sleep.
And then she passed Dess’s door.
Her steps faltered.
Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she just stood there, suspended between the hallway and the dusty hinges of the bedroom door.
Her hand lifted slowly, almost instinctively, reaching for the knob. She turned it in a quiet, practiced motion, her fingers trembling as she caught sight of her reflection in the brass. The door creaked as Noelle slowly pushed it open.
Her eyes swept across the space. The bed was made, sheets untouched, pillows plump and waiting. Her mother had always insisted on keeping the room clean for when Dess returned.
Noelle knew Dess would never keep it this tidy. She'd have dirty clothes scattered all over the floor, her bed unmade, trinkets and soda cans littering the soft carpet.
She moved toward the bed almost automatically, legs heavy, hooves dragging slightly against the floor. She climbed onto it, sitting on the edge, fingers brushing over the covers, the blanket that had once wrapped around the both of them so often.
A memory rose, unbidden. One she'd rather forget.
Noelle gasped as Dess pinned her down to the bed, a predatory, hungry look behind her sisters pale blue irises.
Dess mumbled something about staying quiet so that their parents don't hear them from upstairs before leaning down and pressing kisses—ironically, very gentle ones—to Noelle's neck and collarbone. Noelle squirmed underneath her sisters hold, ultimately giving up and allowing herself to melt into the touch after Dess pressed a long, warm kiss to her lips.
Her body went limp. She decided to let Dess get it out of her system.
It was always easier that way.
Noelle didn't protest when Dess slid a hand underneath her sweater and started feeling her up. She didn't try to fight back when she felt her sisters bulge pressing against her own crotch. She just laid there.
She tricked herself into believing that this was normal. That Dess loved her, and was just a little more touchy than most siblings were. She didn't mean any harm.
That way, when Noelle succumbed to the pleasure, she didn't feel as guilty about the fact that she enjoyed it.
Noelle forced herself back into the present. The memory made her chest ache worse. She could feel the weight of it in her limbs, heavy and immobilizing. Her entire body ached with shame.
She pressed her face into Dess's blanket, letting the tears slip without restraint, streaking down her cheeks and soaking into the fabric beneath her.
She cried quietly at first, small hiccups of grief escaping her throat. Then the sobs came harder, louder, her entire body shaking with each cry.
Exhaustion pulled at her finally, dragging her down into the bed. She curled into herself, hiding in the sheets that still smelled faintly of the sister she hated herself for missing.
The room stayed silent, save for her quiet whimpers and sniffles.
Noelle stayed there for the rest of the night, curled up in Dess’s bed, waiting for something she knew would never return.
Tomorrow would be the same.