There's a knock at the door. "You decent?"

"Never." She swings her feet down off the bed, the wet slap like a slab of fish hitting the butcher's block. "Come on in."

The door swings open and they get one step in before being hit by the wave of heat. "Newsflash, they've invented windows - ever consider opening one once in a while?" They can already feel the prickling of sweat beading on their arms.

"No. Too many flies." She steps in front of her fly roommate to shield him from view. "How dare you disturb my slumber, anyway? Did you want help with something?"

"I'm pretty sure that you wanted to talk to me."

She sighs. "We're heading out to face the devil tonight. Venus, too. I want to make sure you're prepared."

"I'm always prepared," they smirk. There's the clink of a bottle under their coat.

"No, seriously. It's going to get bad out there. I just want to be sure you're ready, that we can stick together. You know that, right?"

"That's not what this is about. If it was, you'd have invited Venus. Spit it out or start chewing."

They step closer, examining her face. "Is this about, you know, us?"

She sighs. Everything is always so difficult, she's trying to be good and Neptune makes it so hard.

"Okay. Okay. You're kind of a dick when you don't get what you want, you know."

Breathe.

"I keep thinking about ways you could get hurt out there, without a magical girl transformation and all, because I kind of have a crush on you."

She's flushed red as she says it. Honestly is fine but candor is the worst and she's deeply aware of the stickiness of sweat on her body and the flies and oh, now everything looks so small and far away, isn't that better now, it's hard to tell…

"I already knew that, dork." Their breath smells like Ricola cough drops and metal. They step away and turn to the side, a cough welling up within them like a shrapnel smoothie attempting to dislodge itself from their lung walls.

"You should get that cough checked out. I swear it's gotten worse." They're still very very dizzily close.

They tilt their head in that casual way they have.

Their hand is on hers.

It's warmer than the heat, dry like the walls of a sarcophagus left baking open in the light of the noonday sun.

"Why — don't you check yourself?" They guide shaky fingers to a wide open jaw, revealing teeth that gleam, red lines of gums creeping between them, the scars of braces.

Their eyes glint with something suggestive, though the saliva and sweat beading on her palm contraindicate the usual sensuality.

She squeaks and yanks her hand away, stumbling back against her rack. "I - what - you - " Her hair sticks to her face as she attempts to regain composure, clutching at her chest above the offending organ that's trying to beat its way out of her ribcage. Swallows past the lump in her throat, breathes deeply. "You're being inappropriate." It's meant to sound stern. It comes out breathy.

"I need space," she says, when she can speak again and it only cracks a little around the edges. "And a shower. And a shirt. Please leave." There are tears trickling down alongside the sweat and she swipes angrily at them, humiliated. "I'm...not discussing this with you right now. Not like this." Not when she's suddenly hyperaware of how vulnerable she is, stripped down to just shorts and a binder and bare feet and that stupid parasitic crush that she can't get rid of, not when Neptune is looking at her like that - Like they've already won.

They raise an eyebrow, looking utterly unconcerned. "Call me when you're done with your tantrum." The door slams behind them as they leave, but not before another coughing fit hits them. This one sounds wet, like the choking gurgle of hydraulics.

Jupiter's left alone in the sweltering heat once more, upset and confused and overheated. She scrubs at her eyes again, looking around the tiny cabin. There's the fly again, buzzing aimlessly by the open window. She glares at it, eyes narrowed, and then grabs her pillow to hurl in its direction. It thuds into the wall with a muffled thump, feathers spilling from a tear in the seam. The fly keeps buzzing, indifferent to her misery. She hates this place. She hates the heat and the flies and the way everything feels so cloying and close. She hates the way Neptune looked at her, smug like they'd gotten everything they wanted from her already. Most of all, she hates the way she reacted to it. Hates herself for daring to hope this could end any other way, like Neptune gives a single shit about what she actually wants. Jupiter curls up on her bunk, hugging her knees to her chest. The shirt sticks to her back and the shorts ride up, chafing already sensitive skin. She shivers despite the warmth, a hollow uneasy ache settling into her gut. They have to face Venus tonight. She has to pull herself together, has to set aside all of this for the good of the group. She has to be good, play her role, stop hurting herself people. Has to ignore how hard her heart clenches at the thought of seeing Neptune again, of all the ways this could still go wrong. The fly continues its aimless wandering, accompanied by the rapid staccato of her panicked breathing. Jupiter squeezes her eyes shut and tries to pretend none of this is happening at all. If she's lucky, maybe she'll pass out from the heat and dodge this whole miserable affair.

She doesn't pass out. Of course she doesn't. The universe has never been so kind. When the knock comes at her door again, sharper this time, she drags herself upright with a groan. Her shirt is plastered to her skin, and her eyes feel gritty and swollen. She probably looks like a wreck. Great.

"We're heading out," Neptune calls from the other side of the door. Their voice is muffled, but the irritation comes through clearly enough.

Jupiter winces. "Be right there," she calls back, forcing her voice to remain steady. She yanks her shorts down properly and finger combs her hair until it lies flat again, sweaty strands clinging to the back of her neck. There's no helping how red her face is, but maybe in the darkness it won't be too obvious. Maybe Neptune will leave her alone. (Like that's ever going to happen.)

When she emerges from her cabin, the other campers have already gathered. Neptune is leaning against a tree, one foot propped up against the trunk behind them in a calculated display of nonchalance. They don't look at her as she joins the group, but she can probably feel their gaze on her all the same.