Archive of Our Own

They meet again, a year later, in the warm, summer haze of a Los Angeles cafe. She sees him first. He's quick to follow. (As always.)

Some things don't change... but others do.

It's the rain pattering against the glass doors; they've both forgotten their umbrellas. His iced caramel macchiato and her off-season pumpkin spice latte - drinks they can actually drink. The beige cardigan she wears. His bright blue eyes.

(There's... something in them she's never seen before. She's not sure if that's because he wasn't capable of it back then, or if it was her who'd lacked the emotional depth to recognise it.)

If this were a fairy tale, this is where the story ends. They meet again; all is right with the world. But she's not a princess waiting for her prince charming. He's not the Romeo to her Juliet. (Luckily.) Honestly, she's not even the...

She's not even the Barbie to his Ken.

She knows that, because he doesn't run up to her like a lost puppy and swing her into his arms. He's learnt restraint. She's learnt hesitation.

They've both learnt how to be afraid.

He does offer her a smile though, a boyish grin that takes her back to a time she hasn't wanted to admit she's missed. And she wants to learn, she realises, what he's been up to without her.

They both move, almost at the same time.

They find empty seats opposite each other.

And that's where this story begins.

*****

Actually, nah. It begins a few months earlier, when Ken's still in Barbieland and Barbie's still staying in the spare bedroom of Gloria's house.

*****

For Ken, going to the real world is not so much a choice as a desperate bid for survival. It's kind of fitting that, even now, when she's gone and he's trying to be the protagonist of his own life-

He... uh... might not even have a life to live?

"Maybe it was just a one-time thing!" Ken laughs it off like it's a joke. "I mean, not all of us are still being played with, right? And Sugar Daddy Ken and Magic Earring Ken are still alive and all, so-"

Weird Barbie isn't laughing.

Weirdly, Ken - the other one - isn't either.

He lets his awkward laughter trail off.

"Bro, I saw your arm disappear for like, two whole seconds!" Ken clasps his hand in a manly show of solidarity. "That ain't normal, dude!"

"It isn't." Weird Barbie agrees. "The thing is, you're not discontinued. And you're not Barbie. You're Ken. All the other Kens in Barbieland have a Barbie tethering them to this world, except-"

(You. Because she left you to become a-)

Ken's head hurts wrapping around all of this, and he doesn't mean just metaphorically.

"Ken, dude, I got your back!"

Only, he doesn't got it.

There's a lot of screaming involved when Ken's torso disappears, and he's kind of just existing as a disembodied head and a bunch of legs and limbs. On the bright side, he still has two arms-

And his body back, a few moments later.

Okay, okay. He's okay. And okay, maybe he's been downplaying his panic in front of all the other Kens... because this has maybe been going on for a few weeks now. Panic crying? Pfft. He's so over that. Mostly. First his nails, then his pinky, then his ring finger, then his hand. It's all never lasted more than a few seconds, so-

"If we let this continue, you're going to disappear entirely." Weird Barbie says, flipping through one of her weird notebooks like her life depends on it. "What you need..." She flips to the end, shoves it in his face. "Is to go to the real world."

Of course. Just the last thing he wanted.

(The thing he's most wanted.)

It's an excuse. A valid reason to go and find Barbie. He'd have followed her back then if she'd asked. Except she hadn't asked, had seemed like she'd needed to do this without him around-

(And maybe, he wants to know how that feels. To do something for himself, and find out who Just Ken is. Because life in Barbieland isn't living, exactly, after he's got a taste of the real world and the weird but cool things it has to offer-)

"For good." Weird Barbie proclaims.

Oh.

Ken - his bro Ken - who's always had his back, who caught his faux mink coat and didn't let it fall embarrassingly to the ground - makes a sound of manly horror. "But then he'll die!"

"After the many years ahead of him." Weird Barbie admits after a pause. "If he stays, he's gonna disappear- die in a matter of weeks."

So, yeah. Ken supposes he doesn't have a choice, if he wants to live. But then, maybe this is like that glass half empty and half full thing. It'd never made sense to him before, since the glass is always empty even when it's full here, but-

He's doing this because he doesn't want to die.

He's doing this because he wants to live.

*****

"Did you hear?" Aaron Dinkins comes up to her table, whispering loudly enough that everyone can hear. "I got this call from the CEO saying-"

Gloria drags him into an empty meeting room.

"-Or asking me, rather, to prepare a bunch of legal documents. Immigration papers, passport. Like last time for Barbie, only now it's for Ken-"

"Ken? Which Ken?"

"Barbie - Barbara's - Ken. Beach Ken? Patriarchy Ken?" He shrugs. "Apparently he's dying back in Barbieland, and the bosses are afraid that it'll be a bad omen for Ken doll sales or something if he does, or that all Kens will stop existing in our-"

The question, Gloria thinks, is whether to tell Barbara. She has enough on her plate, is still adapting to the drudgery of the 9-to-5 life. She'll want to seek him out... and she shouldn't. Like she said: the man stole her house, brainwashed her friends, tried to overthrow the government.

Of course, that's all she knows of the man. Honestly, if he's anything like Barbara...

(It's almost like watching Sasha grow up again - the way she's so curious yet clueless sometimes, learning new things about herself along the way.)

Maybe, Ken doesn't know himself either.

(And it's not really her place to say, Gloria thinks even as she resolves herself, but if that's the case... isn't the last thing they need each other?)

*****

So, his name is now officially Kenneth. He doesn't like it, tbh - it's not really his vibe - but hey, at least he's no longer just Ken? They were even nice enough to set him up with ID cards and a bank account and three months of rent.

The rest is, apparently, his to worry about.

(Privately - and he's been having more of these darker thoughts recently, just popping into his head like the bubbles he's seen the kid next door blow - he thinks Mattel couldn't care less if he died. Now that he has a real-world identity that isn't linked to them... so what if he starves or becomes homeless? It won't affect their sales. It's none of their - literal - business.)

Ken looks at the list of things he's supposed to figure out. Transportation. Employment. Food.

It hurts his head to even look at it.

So, he creates another list! If he's gotta find himself a job, it should be one he likes, right?

Stuff I like:
1. Beach
2. Horses
3. Barbie

Ken writes it, crosses it out with a pencil, erases it, crosses it out with a pen. His brows furrow even as he puts down the pen, an odd urge to-

(Snap the pen, or toss it across the room. It's a strange feeling that he doesn't know how to describe. It surges up his chest - a bit like how he'd felt whenever Barbie had talked to other Kens - only this time... directed at himself?)

Two items. That's kind of sad, isn't it? Not the crying kind of sad, but the empty, hollow kind.

(He could look for her. She would fill the...)

But she'd told him to look elsewhere.

(He'd agreed to, had put a brave face on when he'd smiled and waved goodbye - just to make her feel better about leaving, as if he'd know where to begin without her telling him how.)

If even the universe - or Barbieland, at least - thinks he doesn't need to exist if Barbie isn't around... then who is he to say otherwise?

*****

(Come on, he now has a penis. There's no way he's not gonna, you know, not try it out.)

*****

Her co-workers drag her along for girl's night. Barbie's the expert on girl's night. Barbara, on the other hand, is not. It's been a bit much.

"So, if you don't mind me asking..." Jessica leans forwards, propping her chin on her hands. "Are you currently attached?" Her grin is sharp.

"Nope!" Barbara offers a smile.

"Really? But you're so pretty!" Clara sighs wistfully. "How many boy toys have you had?"

(It's the unwitting accuracy of that which makes it...)

"Just the one." Barbara's smile grows forced. She's done this before with Gloria's friends. Apparently, it's not normal for someone with her looks to have had only one. She's lost count of the number of times she's been hit on, or had to move - or slap - wandering hands away.

(She misses them. Her Barbies. The Kens. Her Ken. They were her friends. She always knew where she stood with them. She's never really missed anyone in particular, until now.)

But it's not really missing, Barbara tells herself, as much as remembering. Blue eyes, tanned skin..

"Damn. How long?"

For all my life. Time, in Barbieland...

"Long enough. Years." Barbara laughs.

(And yet, what does she really know of him? Even though she'd called him her boyfriend for all that time. She'd told herself there wasn't anything to get to know, but maybe that's-)

She listens to their stories. Jess, who met her wife while trapped in an elevator. Alice, whose ex worked in a pet crematorium. Clara, who's just flown back from her honeymoon in Egypt.

It's so different from the stories she and the other Barbies had used to tell each other. Those had been variations of the same thing. These ones are so unique, wild and beyond anything she could have imagined. She wants to see more of the world, Los Angeles and beyond.

(She wants to experience love - the kind they sing about in the songs and shout out from the rooftops, glorious and passionate and true.)

But first, she'll need to find someone.

(Guiltily, she tries not to think of him.)

*****

Ken still can't get her out of his mind.

He'd asked. Of course he'd asked. When he'd first arrived here, and then later when they checked in with him again. But the sunglasses-wearing Mattel guys are jerks who refuse to even speak to him. Aaron had been weirdly evasive about telling him where to find her, instead saying...

Oh no, what if she's dead?

Ken panics for ten minutes just thinking about it. She can't be, right? She'd gone with Gloria, and Gloria- Aaron had mentioned her a couple of times - is apparently alive and doing well. She wouldn't be okay if Barbie was dead, right?

Probably, the only reason he hasn't met her - that she hasn't looked for him - is because... she doesn't want to. She wants more than him.

He thinks he needs a distraction.

In Barbieland, Ken hadn't had many options. It'd been work out, work on his tan, or beach.

Now, the world is his oyster-

(Get it? Beach? Oyster? He's pretty proud of that one, it's like an extended metaphor with a theme!)

And so, he grabs one of the many books he'd borrowed for free from the public library, then throws himself onto his favourite beanbag. It's honestly pretty cool, all the weird fancy names and concepts humans have come up with. Patriarchy, monarchy, meritocracy, plutocracy-

Not to mention, psychology.

He now has names for those emotions he'd felt - like when he'd leant against a pillar, empty wine glass in hand, watching her dance with another guy. Asking her out, only to get 'but it's girl's night' again. Jealousy. Desperation. Look at me.

(To think that maybe, this is the one thing he'd beat Barbie in. She may have cried first, but he'd felt first. He'd figured out, all by himself, how to use his words to hit where it hurts; how to use irony to prove his point. It's a dubious honour, yeah, and he wishes he'd been the bigger man-)

But in a sick, twisted way that he's not proud of... he's actually kind of proud of it. Of having been the villain, the glitch in the system.

(Until he remembers the face she'd made.)

Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion. Guilt.

Because humans aren't perfect. They seem quite proud of that, actually. And Barbie was as close to perfection as anyone could get, while Ken...

(The boyfriend. The everyman. Just Ken.)

He's always been far from perfect, so maybe, that means... he was always closer to being human? In a way, he just might be better at dealing with all of this. It's radical, the idea that he can be better than her at even one thing-

And it's kind of messy, but apparently it's okay in the real world to be messy. It's normal.

That's a scary, but also kind of comforting thought.

*****

Barbara goes on a date. Multiple, actually.

The first had been a disaster. The guy was a real estate agent who was clearly proud of the deals he'd closed, to the point he couldn't talk about anything else. She'd left even before dessert.

(You would have asked about my day.)

The second had been... boring. He'd asked after her, asked about her. He'd told her about himself - his job as a paramedic, his two pet cats. Only... she has no idea how anyone can make such interesting things seem so uninspiring.

(You would have found a way to make me laugh.)

The third had been... pretty great. She'd been wined and dined. He'd made her laugh. He'd laughed with her and made her feel nice.

She jams to 'the way I loved you' by Taylor Swift that night. Blasts it in the shower, lies in bed and sings her heart out.

(But I didn't love you.)

She hadn't. She'd told him as much.

What is love anyway?

(How could she ever have loved him when she never understood how he felt? How could he truly have loved her if he'd resented her for it?)

She wants to ask him what he thinks it is. Why he thought he'd loved her. Because if it's just liking enough qualities about someone... had she let go of him too soon? Will she ever find anyone better? Is she stronger if she never finds anyone?

She's used to knowing. To feeling sure, and happy, and so this bittersweet feeling of realising that she can feel more than one thing at once, both good and bad, makes her want to cry.

(Homesickness, Gloria had explained, her voice so full of understanding when she'd told her about her grandmother that Barbie had cried.)

Emotions are so complicated.

Especially when she's tired and achey and crampy. And yeah, they'd warned her about death, but they sure forgot to mention having a vagina meant PMS and so. much. blood.

(She'd fainted in the toilet, the first time.)

It's one of those nights she stays up watching rom-coms and thinking about life. Gloria knocks on her door and makes her a hot chocolate. If she didn't already have a husband, Barbie might just have to marry her. As it is, though...

She can't stay here forever. She knows that. Sasha's started hinting to her, albeit quite nicely.

She should start searching for a flat.

*****

Ken gets a job.

Ken loses the job.

It goes something like this:

Turns out, he's something of a horse whisperer. The polo country club uptown was impressed when he'd somehow managed to wrangle a whole herd of horses on the loose into calming down long enough for them to be led back to the stables. Then, they'd offered Ken a job.

It's a pretty nice job! He gets to hang with horses, groom them, lead them to fancy rich people who are admittedly less nice than the horses... but they do tip him. He's even got to ride a few! Horses, he means. Of course.

It's a full three months into his job that the... incident happens. He's just minding his own business in the stable, murmuring 'who's the most beautiful lady here? You, yes you' to a very striking Thoroughbred, when this lady comes up to him.

He's seen her around. He's led her horse out to her and got her saddled up quite a few times.

"Are you gay?" She twirls her hair.

"...No?" Maybe bi. He's been reading.

They're alone. She steps closer. He has to admit she's very pretty. Not in a girly way, although she is wearing pink lip gloss. Her perfume is a musky rose - she must have showered after riding - and as she accidentally 'stumbles' into him-

(Anywhere else, I'd be a ten.)

It's a good kiss - his first kiss - he doesn't have many comparisons. She takes the lead, her hands trailing up his arms, feeling up his muscles. One of his hands tangle in her hair, and he can't resist threading his fingers through. It's surprisingly soft, feels longer than it looks. Her tongue tangles with his, does a twisting motion that feels really, really nice, almost as if-

"Barbie." It slips from his lips, a moan.

The girl tears herself from him. "Is that supposed to be a pet name?" She seems disgusted.

Hey, don't act like she's something to be-

Ken's heart rate stays at the racing pace it's at, his fists clenched by his side. It catches up with him all of a sudden - where he is, who it is.

"You were thinking of someone else, weren't you?" She sneers, even as she fixes her hair.

She flounces out.

The horses stare at him.

The next day, he gets a notice that he's lost his job. His boss - ex-boss - just sighs and asks him why he'd thought it would be a good idea to be rude to the daughter of the polo club's owner.

(Frustration. Anger. Regret.)

Ken bites his tongue and goes home.

One beer can, then two. He opens a third.

Maybe, he thinks in a wave of - cynicism, that's the word his ex-coworker had used when he'd given in to a bout of 'uncharacteristic sarcasm' on a bad day - this world isn't run by men or women. It's just run by the rich. And people like him, without fancy MBAs or PhDs to their name...

He takes another gulp of beer.

(But then, he could have walked away. Maybe he'd have lost his job anyway for that. But...)

He crushes the empty beer can. The sudden sound - and sting of his palm - startles him. He stares at his hand for a few moments. He hadn't realised how hard his heart's been pounding against his ribs. This part of feeling alive is...

(He feels older, harder, just dealing with this.)

He misses the other Kens. His bros. Just having someone to talk - or rant - to. But at the same time... he's kind of glad that he's alone. He doesn't know if they'd understand. He doesn't even understand it himself, just why...

Ken drops the crushed can at his feet.

Tomorrow, he'll search for a new job. Tomorrow, he'll get his life back in order and figure out his long-term plan and maybe try to cook a meal.

Today... he's gonna finish this six-pack and sit in a sunken position of defeat on his too-soft couch with his head in his hands.

*****

His list has a home on the fridge door now-

Stuff I like:
1. Beach
2. Horses
3. Barbie
4. Reading
5. Going to the gym
6. Caramel macchiatos
7. Downton Abbey
8. Singing

Complete with mini volleyball fridge magnets.

*****

"You want to learn how to swim?" The instructor asks slowly. He once-overs Ken from head to toe.

"Yeah!" Ken grins. "I lived somewhere where the waves were like... solid?" He mimes a collision.

"Like..." The guy pauses doubtfully. "Antarctica?"

Oh, oh! Ken's heard of this place before. It's down South, right? Near Australia, which he knows also has the sun and the sand and...

"Yeah! You can get a real good tan." Ken beams.

The man opens his mouth, only to close it again, shaking his head. "You know what? I'm not even gonna ask. Head on in. Don't perve on the kids."

Ken salutes, grabbing one of the duck floaties as he joins a group of six-year-olds staring at him.

*****

Gloria is right. It does get better.

Sasha quips that she's having a quarter-life crisis. Barbie had gone to look it up and... yeah, maybe she is. They all attend her housewarming party: Gloria's family; Jessica, Clara, and Alice.

She quits her job soon after - a secretarial admin role she'd taken on just because they were the first to accept her after the interviews and she'd been so excited. With less relationship-obsessed colleagues at her new workplace, an editorial magazine that also reports about meaningful stuff, like women's rights and discrimination and stuff - she feels less... pressured by it all to date.

(She still meets her old colleagues though. For all they stress Barbara out a little, they are fun.)

The company lets her go out for mini research assignments like: what's it like to stay in a capsule hotel and such, and then document her experience after. Her articles are like her journal, and that's pretty cool. She hopes she'll get to write the more serious pieces one day.

And she gets more used to being Barbara. The careerwoman juggling evening community college classes on top of a day job. A human female with multiple circles of friends, who has an apartment of her own, her own bicycle.

There are good days and bad days, but Barbara's starting to feel like she's getting the hang of this.

*****

A few months and navigating a bunch of unnecessarily tedious certification processes later, Ken finally gets his lifeguard job.

*****

The good part about Barbara's job is: as long as she has her laptop, she can work anywhere.

Today, she picks a random Starbucks.

She's just placed her order for a pumpkin spice latte. It's cold and stormy outside and she's in the mood. She turns to walk away after, only to-

"What's your name?" The barista asks.

"Ken." A very familiar voice says.

"Short for anything?"

"Kenneth," He laughs. "But... I prefer just Ken."

(And Barbara's breath just hitches for a moment-)

Because it doesn't matter if it's been a minute or a year; even with her eyes closed, even if dozens of other people were screaming her name...

(She's had practice.)

In a sea of voices, Barbie will always recognise his.

*****

'Fancy meeting you here.'

It's what Ken means to say, while leaning back in his chair and looking suave. What comes out instead is something that's a little too...

"You look like you're doing great."

She does. She's as beautiful as she's always been, even if her hairstyle - a messy chignon - is one he's never seen. The peach-coloured blouse and tan brown skirt she's wearing looks nice on her. It's a little subdued, but the same probably applies to his baby blue shirt and khaki trousers. There's a difference in the way she carries herself now, a liveliness behind her eyes that...

(He doesn't have a name for the emotion that's slipped into his voice.)

"So do you." She smiles.

(There are too many to name in hers.)

Even after all this time, she can still make his day better just by looking at him.

"So... Kenneth, huh?" She starts.

"They chose it for me. How about y-"

"Barbara." She rotates her cup to show him.

It's awkward in a way they've never been.

(It's weird, because he's been dreaming of reuniting with her ever since becoming human. But now that she's in front of him, he doesn't know what to say. So much has happened.)

"When did you even come-"

"Did you know that I-"

"You first-"

"No, you-"

They've done this before. They both laugh, clearly remembering the same thing. Actual amusement, an undercurrent of ruefulness.

Still, it breaks the ice. Their conversation flows much easier after that. They talk about what she's been doing, what he's doing and what he's doing here. She's horrified by his explanation, tries to apologise even as he handwaves it away.

"I thought I'd never see you - see anyone from there - ever again." Barbie - Barbara? - looks genuinely happy. But also a little sad? Her smile softens. "I'm glad you've been able to find your own..." She gestures across him in a head-to-toe motion. "Kenergy." She teases him.

He still hasn't, Ken wants to admit at first, but then he pauses. Now that he thinks about it...

Somewhere along the messiness of figuring out how to land a job and stock up his fridge and earn enough to pay his rent and this beautiful new motorcycle he's got (he's not sure he'll ever be able to afford his own horse! And he's learnt no one really rides them about any more, sadly)...

He has found out a bit more about himself. It's that list of things he likes on his fridge; the stuff he doesn't keep in his fridge because he hates. Like kombucha, or almond milk. No one else had instructed him to like those stuff or not.

Ken's almost too stunned by the realisation to agree when she asks to exchange numbers and says "let's do this again some time". He lets maybe too much kenergy shine through when his brain recovers and he nods and eagerly says "yes!"

She laughs, though.

And as he watches the corners of her eyes crinkle in a way their doll-bodies wouldn't have allowed in Barbieland... He doesn't think he's fully happy with his life right now, but he is happy. And not just because she's smiling at him, but because...

He thinks about it.

Because he's the one who put it there..?

*****

Gloria's just finished hanging the laundry - with Sasha's slightly grumbling help - when Barbara calls, asking the very specific and well-deserved question of "when were you going to tell me?"

"Oh no, I'm not angry." She assures her. Gloria can imagine her wide-eyed 'I would never' expression. "I just wanted to know why."

She hopes that Barbara will never change. That she'll keep this childlike curiosity about life that is just so damned refreshing to watch and live.

*****

"Hey, Barbie!" He's basically bouncing off the balls of his feet. "Welcome! It's no mojo dojo casa house, but it's still a pretty sweet-"

He's the only one who still calls her Barbie.

(She kind of likes that he does.)

It's a little ironic that out of everyone she knows, even all the true, blue, have-always-been-human humans, Ken is the one who's most full of life.

(She... doesn't like to call him Kenneth either.)

She used to find his clinginess a bit annoying. She didn't understand why he wanted to spend so much time with her. Intuitively, they both knew that they should, but then they hadn't known what to do. What did they have to talk about? Aside from serenades and hand-holding...

But she's watched Gloria and her husband: making waffles, doing crosswords, cleaning the house, yelling at each other in spanish and broken-spanish respectively... Sasha rolling her eyes, but hiding a smile when they kiss.

("What's a boyfriend even good for?" Barbara had asked after one too many drinks.

The girls cackle. "Scratching the itch down there." Clara winks before chortling again.)

Okay, this is absolutely not the sort of runaway thought she wants to be having while she's in her ex-boyfriend's house, thank you very much.

Thankfully, Ken doesn't see her blush.

"I borrowed a bunch of barbie movies from the public library. Did you know you could do that?" Ken lays them out for her. Fairytopia. Mermaidia. "I'm not in a lot of those though..." He pouts.

"We can watch something else." She laughs, turning on his TV. She reaches for the other movies he's got. Titanic. Harry Potter. Mission Impossible. Oppenheimer. That's new, right?

"I think that one's pretty depressing!" Ken informs her with a grin. "I'm not sure though."

So, they find out together.

They pop their own popcorn before putting the movie on, only exploding one (1) kitchen appliance. They pretend to be film critics and make their own running commentary throughout.

And it's fun.

*****

Life works in strange ways.

Ken didn't sign up for it. He was just doing his job - it's 99% staring out at the distance and helping people with stuff that's technically not part of his job - and 1% pure adrenaline. But the tide is high one day. A woman screams. Her boy is out there, he's been swept out to sea.

Then, one thing leads to another.

Someone took a video of the entire thing. He goes viral on Tik Tok. People clamour to find out who the man in 'hunky lifeguard saves an eight-year-old boy' is. Some local fashion firm offers him a modelling gig. He accepts, because extra cash for sitting there trying on clothes and looking pretty sounds like a good deal, right?

It's harder work than he thought, but the fifty-year-old lady - Carol - who owns the company is actually really sweet. This is new to her too. Fashion was supposed to be a mid-career switch for her, but she hasn't had much luck for a while now both online or with her brick-and-mortar store. It's mostly a one-man - one-woman? - show, and she's gonna have to wind up soon if something doesn't change. She doesn't have much to offer, she says apologetically, so this is more of a token payment than anything.

Ken is weak for underdog stories.

'Pink Parable' is such a catchy name. Florals and denim are totally his vibe. He has no idea why her clothing store isn't more popular.

The next collection sells out like hotcakes.

In fact, it's such a hit that Ken gets offers from professional modelling firms - apparently, he has this 'natural energy' thing working for him? - but that isn't the point of this internal monologue.

The point is: he ropes Barbie into meeting the lady, because well... he can hardly model the dresses and stuff the way she imagines it, right? Barbie - bless her heart - agrees. In fact, she more than agrees. She's been trying to push to start a section on the editorial website she's working on to showcase 'stories of ordinary people', and she thinks Carol's story is great for the very first story. Either way, once she finishes the draft, she brings it up to her boss who agrees.

That next season's collection sells out too.

It's cool, seeing your efforts - your ideas - pay off. They're all happy for each other.

And that's not the only idea that pays off.

Ken's always enjoyed fashion. He did contact one of the smaller professional modelling firms that reached out to him. Again, one thing leads to another. This really cool guy lets him try out being on the other side. Designing clothes.

It's more fun than he thought it would be.

The beautiful, awesome thing about being human, Ken thinks while feeling particularly philosophical one night as he stares out at the sky, is getting to try out all these different hats. You don't have to stay stuck in one role your whole life - as a pilot, a doctor, the president...

(The boyfriend.)

His hand stills, midway through aimlessly strumming some chords on his guitar.

He still wants to be a boyfriend though.

(But not just a boyfriend - and he thinks that he finally, finally gets what she meant all that time ago. Has it been a year? He thinks it has.)

Finding girls... isn't hard, nowadays. Apparently, 'lifeguard-who's-saved-a-child who does some modelling and fashion designing on the side' is a hit with the ladies. Or maybe, it's the tan.

They don't look past the tan.

It's weird. He thought all humans had to be very deep and complex. It's what he and Barbie had assumed, at least. And maybe, they are. He has no right to think of some of them as shallow. Maybe, they're just hiding it very well...?

It feels weird, telling them no. But then...

Ken counts the stars he can see. There aren't that many, compared to the rows and columns of city lights. Those are pretty too, though.

(He wants to be her boyfriend.)

But at least he has her back in his life now. At least he has that, if nothing else, and that's...

Ken shakes his head, shaking off the odd melancholy - and isn't that such a strange word? - that's been gripping him. He blows the candle on his balcony out, then heads back in.

*****

When she's out in a club, dressed to slay in six-inch heels and cherry red lipstick, she means to have fun. She shouldn't be feeling empty inside. Not with the music blaring so loud and liquid courage in her system and hot girls and guys all around, flirting with her, dancing with her-

(Maybe, it's the way all these remind her of...)

"Do you ever think about dying?" Barbara asks with a maybe too-bright smile. Just because.

The music keeps playing. No one turns to stare at her. A random goth dude in spikes yells "all the time, dude!" No one turns to stare at him.

Ken stares at her, though, because he knows. She's not sure what she expects - for him to look horrified, maybe. After all, he'd been part of the silent, shocked crowd in Barbieland.

(But, she realises, things are different. This isn't Barbieland. The guys aren't all waiting on the girls. She's not the only one who's got a bunch of numbers, tonight, and maybe, maybe, that's also part of the reason her mood is so... strange.)

The smile on his lips is kind of strange as well. It's not bitter, the way it'd been when he'd looked at her and asked that fateful 'doesn't feel so good, does it' that'd just about shattered her worldview.

This one is wry and just... not-Ken.

"In the not in the next forty years kind of way." He says, his tone low as he offers her a tequila shot. The neon lights cast strange, wild shadows on his face.

(He's human now. So is she. They're allowed to be not-Ken and not-Barbie. Whatever that means.)

So she takes it, downs it, pulls him in and dances, as if she knows what she's doing and it doesn't still feel like her life is still missing something. He follows her lead, steals it before returning it. His hands find her hips. She throws her arms around his neck. The heat of his skin could burn a hole through her dress. All of this is new, yet neither of them misses a beat in the way only partners who've done this for a long, long time can.

All eyes are on them by the time they finish an impromptu dance-off. She's sweaty and gross and her feet are dying. But amidst the hoots and wolf-whistles and his triumphant grin and her own, his gaze almost electrifyingly bright-

She finally feels glowing and alive.

*****

(They both know they'd broken the unspoken rules.

It’s an unspoken rule that they don't mention that night again.)

*****

Gloria invites her to a family dinner.

Sasha corners her almost immediately.

"Are you dating your ex?" A sing-song tone.

"...No?" Barbara backs away slightly, because Sasha is holding her phone with a slightly predatory, I'm-gonna-destroy-you smile.

Just because they're texting regularly now, and have gone out and visited each other a few times... and yes, they exchange stories about their days, and okay maybe they've been meeting a lot but that's because they were sort of colleagues for a while with the Pink Parable-

But friends do all of that too, right?

(That nightclub thing was a...)

"So, you won't mind if I-"

Sasha's fingers move too quickly across her screen as she types. Barbie lunges, but fails.

Barbara goes on a second date with that guy - the third guy she'd met months before. She's kind of surprised he's still available, actually.

Once again, he's perfectly nice.

But she has a fresher frame of reference. So many frames, in fact. He very politely doesn't ask her why she took so long to reply to his request for a second date after total silence-

"So, that's why you didn't call or anything! Phew, I thought you died, or didn't want to see me, or-"

He pulls out the chair for her, holds the door open for her, strolls with her in the park and points out the different constellations in the sky.

"Look out your window! Do you see the supermoon-"

When he tries to lean in for the kiss, she breaks down sobbing, tells him sorry and runs.

(Why? Why now? Is it really love? Is she just nostalgic for the past? Does she just miss the familiarity of his jokes, his sweet and easy grin, the passion with which he talks, playing spot-the-difference with his newfound quirks-)

She deletes the dating app once she's home.

It's a good cry that she has that night, the kind that leaves her heart feeling full and ready to go.

You know what? She can be both Barbara and Barbie. She has a career. She has friends. She has other dating options. She doesn't need a Ken.

But if she wants her Ken...

That's fine too.

*****

"Sasha!" Gloria scolds.

"What? She needed a push!"

Gloria and Sasha turn to face the 'she' in question. Barbie offers a bleak wave from where she's lying in a position of defeat on the floor.

It's actually pretty comfortable for her back.

She'd felt very inspired for like… 30 minutes. But then reality had struck. And now she's at Gloria's house again, thinking about life.

What if he doesn't want her anymore?

She was afraid that he'd hate her at first. He'd have every right to. Sure, she didn't know, but her leaving to become a human had basically forced him to come after her or die? She was sure that he blamed her - why else wouldn't he have looked for her after coming back? Sure, he didn't know where she lived. But if there's one thing she knows about Ken, it's that he doesn't do anything halfway. If he'd truly wanted...

He would have been at her doorstep ages ago.

Even now that he does have her address, he doesn't turn up unannounced like he used to do.

She must have lost her chance.

Is this how he'd used to feel? The hopelessness; the futility. How's she supposed to face him and smile when he talks about movies and pets and-

(How had he done it before?)

It's too hard. Life. Emotions. Love.

Barbie doesn't want any part of this.

*****

Sasha waits until her mum's out of the room.

She'd copied Ken's number a long time ago, when she first got her hand on Barbie's phone. Her plan had worked in that it got Barbie to realise her feelings, but... she spares a glance at the woman who's still lying on the floor.

Clearly, she has to do all the work around here.

Sasha shakes her head, grabbing her own mobile phone before heading into her own bedroom.

"Ken!" She fakes panic. "You need to come now! It's Barbie!" She hangs up before he can reply.

Then, she texts him their address, and proceeds to make some popcorn.

*****

Damn, Sasha thinks as the doorbell rings barely ten minutes later. The guy works fast.

*****

Gloria is extremely confused when Ken rings her doorbell at 12am, shirtless with nothing on but a pair of purple flannel shorts. He tosses his motorcycle helmet aside and shoves past her.

"Where's Barbie?" He demands, marching in. "Barbie, Barbie! Are you okay? Where are-"

"She's fine!" Gloria says... and he's clearly not even listening to her. She's not sure she's ever seen anyone so frantic. He sounds like he's this close to crying, and oh boy, she can't handle two breakdowns in one night. "She's right there by-"

"Ken? What are you doing-"

He pulls her to his chest and hugs her. Tight.

(Note: in an actual emergency situation, it's highly inadvisable to subject the injured party to sudden movements like this. But since this isn't one-)

There's deathly silence for a long few seconds. But then, slowly, surely, Barbara's arms wrap back around Ken. She rests her head on his shoulder. Gloria holds her breath with them.

Sasha appears out of nowhere and nudges her elbow. She's about to scold her daughter until she offers her a mug of freshly-made popcorn.

...And now, Ken and Barbara are shouting at each other. Watching two very attractive people with very healthy lungs yell at each other in real life isn't how she expected her Friday night to go.

"The girl told me it was an emergency!"

"Her name is Sasha!"

"Fine, Sasha told me it was an emergency!"

Gloria would scold her daughter for meddling again, but she's a little invested right now-

"And you just dropped everything to drive here?" Barbara wrenches herself out of Ken's grip just so she can point an accusing finger at him. It nearly pokes his eye out. "How could you be so stupid? Couldn't you at least have put on a shirt? Oh my God, did you even wear a helmet? You could have died, or killed someone-"

"Yes I did!" They all gasp. "Wear a helmet! Not kill someone!" They all sigh in relief. "And I thought you were dying! Don't I get points for-"

"For what?" Barbara snaps.

"I don't know!" He growls back, throwing his arms up into the air. Wow, they've both unlocked so many emotions since the first time she'd met Barbie. "And you aren't off the hook either! Why were you lying on the floor like a log? You've been crying! Your makeup's all smudged and ug-"

Sasha takes another mouth of popcorn. "This isn't really going how I thought..." She mutters.

"Do you want me to hit you?" Barbie cries out. You go, girl! "And I was crying because of you!"

They all fall silent. Ken looks... floored.

"If you must know, I went on a date!" She twists the word into something poisonous. "And it went great! He was nice and polite and smart-"

Raw hurt flickers in Ken's eyes.

He looks away, angling his face to hide from their gazes. "That's... great." A weak laugh. His Adam's apple bobs. Oh, shit. "You don't need to worry about me. You should go ahead and-"

"Until he tried to kiss me, and I ran away."

They fall back into stunned silence.

Gloria doesn't even know where to look.

A single tear rolls down Barbara's cheek. Ken's mouth falls open. He blinks: once, twice - and each time, she swears there's a different emotion in it. Disbelief. Happiness. Hope.

"There was someone else on my mind." Barbara says like a dare, like she's challenging herself to admit it. "But then the more I thought about it... the more it'd seemed like I'd lost my chance."

It's like a scene out of a movie. The way Ken closes the distance between them in two strides. He catches her tears with the pad of his thumb.

"...It's always been you." His voice cracks.

(And if this were a Hallmark movie, they'd be kissing right about now, the soundtrack swelling to a crescendo as they embrace passionately-)

Instead, all Barbara does is smile. It's a beautiful smile, though, one that lights up her whole face. There's just so much wonder in both their eyes. Her hand moves to cover his, where it's still cupping her cheek. He leans in; her lips part.

And then Sasha clears her throat.

The two lovebirds turn around, mortified.

Gloria tries to make a 'we're invisible, don't mind us! Just keep on doing you!' kind of gesture of encouragement - but the moment is broken.

She ushers them out of her house before their romantic energy fizzles and dies before it can even begin. Limited emotional range, her foot. That was messy and imperfect and beautiful. Gloria's now filled with so much inspiration for the new Barbie media tie-ups she's working on.

She supposes they all have her daughter to thank.

*****

It's been a rollercoaster of a night.

Barbie had dressed up and gone out to meet one man.

Now, she's going home with a different one.

There are plenty of derogatory terms she knows many not-so-kind people would throw at her. Maybe she deserves them. Maybe she doesn't.

Right now, though, she feels too floaty to care.

(It's a feeling she hasn't felt ever since...)

They walk together to his motorcycle. She realises, with a breathy laugh that earns her his confusion until she points it out, that he's still without a shirt. It becomes less funny when she realises she'll be hugging him, without the shirt.

Ken offers her his hand. It's rougher than she remembers; there are calluses that didn't use to exist. Still, Barbie's palm fits in his perfectly.

(They were made for each other, after all.)

But it's what he's done since that's drawn her in. Edges and cracks that weren't there before, but align all too well with hers.

He doesn't lean in for the kiss, but if he did-

His hair catches the moonlight, appearing almost silver. She's struck by the strange urge to reach forward and brush his hair from his eyes. It feels like the thread connecting them is painfully fragile, like one wrong move could break it.

In the end, she settles for wrapping her arms around him. She closes her eyes, and lets the roar of the engine and the wind take her.

(His heart is beating as fast as her own.)

*****

Ken stops the motorcycle outside her house.

She takes her time unwrapping her arms from where she'd been holding onto him. His heart feels like it's soaring. At the same time, it's racing so fast he thinks it might just stop beating. Ken clears his throat. She looks at him expectantly.

"I was thinking..." He manages a grin. He's so nervous he might vomit, and that would be bad. "Maybe I could stay over at your house tonight?"

She smiles. It reaches her eyes. "For what?"

(She knows. They both do. It's written in the stars, their reflection in her eyes, the smile that manages to be coy and innocent and hopeful all at once. Also, also, she's looking at him-)

They're standing in a parking lot. It smells faintly of stale cigarettes and exhaust. It's a full moon, and she looks like a goddess, smudged makeup and all. And this... string, the one that leads to her - he wants to follow it. Recklessly.

And so he does.

Barbies and Kens don't kiss. They rarely even touch. It's not how they're played with. It's not why they were made. He's so glad she was so unhappy, so glad she went to the real world, so glad he became human, because even if she'd said yes there, it'd have been a pale imitation of-

Fireworks explode behind his eyelids. There's no chorus of angels singing in the background, but it still feels like heaven when her lips move against his. Her fingers trail up the nape of his neck. He has no idea how a kiss can be sweet and powerful at once, but it is. It's the way her tongue dances with his, slow and tentative - a dance that neither of them knows yet but have no problem figuring out. He maps every inch of her mouth even as she plays with his hair, feels the heat of her skin pressed against him.

Barbara smiles against his lips.

"For this." Ken murmurs, leaning in again.

She pulls him in the rest of the way.

It's a long, long night, in the best of ways.