Marty hated seeing his friend like this.
They were sat together on the floor of her room, the silence stretching out around them. Her head rested on his shoulder, accepting his comforting arm around her. It had been just over a week since Dana had received the email.
They were in the library - Jules, Dana and him. Jules was uncharacteristically quiet, engrossed in a hefty medical textbook in anticipation of her finals next week. She stopped only to scribble salient points in her wild, looping handwriting in a notebook next to her. Marty, sitting across from her, doodled in its margins; eyeballs and stars and various pointless little drawings decorated the page. She didn't look up. Marty smiled. Too many people wrote Jules off as a brainless party girl, knowing nothing of the fierce dedication she poured into her studies. She wanted something, she got it, and Jules wanted to be a doctor, badly. So here she was in the library, unwaveringly devoted, with Dana to her right. Dana was totally immersed in her sketchbook. Marty liked watching her draw. It was when she was at her most relaxed and carefree. Every now and then he stole a glimpse at her elegantly realised drawings, grinning to himself as he compared it to his own scruffy handiwork.
His decision to accompany his friends to the library was allegedly to study as well, but they all knew this was nonsense; Marty didn't study. He goofed around all year getting high and somehow his brain slotted itself into gear come exam season. No, he was here because this was where his friends were. Friends were important to Marty. He hadn't really had many when he was younger, but now he had three of the best. Curt, whose hulking physique belied his kind nature and keen intellect. Jules, beautiful and outspoken, totally outrageous and the life of the party. And Dana – kind, sweet Dana, who was slow to judge and quick to befriend. Marty's biggest secret, even more secret than the location of his most secret of stashes, or the fact that he still hadn't learnt to swim, was the fact that he had something of a crush on Dana. It wasn't a noxious, unrequited love that kept him up at night, or drove him to write bad poetry, or made him miserable or resentful. It was actually a rather pleasant sensation. Simply put, Marty felt happy when he saw her. He knew that nothing would ever come of it, that Dana didn't see him that way. But that didn't change a thing. Martin Mikalski was smitten with one of his best friends.
The quiet of the library was suddenly broken; Marty's ponderings were interrupted as a muffled snort cut through the hushed atmosphere. Marty looked up from his margin masterpieces to see the source of the disturbance; four guys at the next table over, smirking in their direction, trying (and failing) to stifle their laughter. The majority of their conversation was conducted in a whispered tone, but Marty caught occasional snippets – Dana's name was mentioned, and he frowned as one of the four made an obscene sexual gesture, much to the hilarity of the whole group. He looked over to Jules, who had since abandoned her work in wake of the interruption and the realisation that it was her best friend who was the subject of it. They shared a silent expression of concern, before both glancing at Dana. She was still sketching, apparently undisturbed. Her red hair fell over her face as she bent to the paper, and Marty hoped fruitlessly that she hadn't heard.
She had, of course; how couldn't she. Her pencil strokes - usually deft and precise and carefully constructed - became increasingly violent and erratic, and although he couldn't see her face he knew that she would be flushing pink, burning with anger and humiliation. The four were obviously referring to the recent development that Dana had been in a relationship with – and dumped by – one of her professors. Marty didn't know how this had become public knowledge (the asshole had done the deed by email), but the fact was that most of their peers now knew, somehow. He was vicariously anguished for his friend, wishing he had Curt's imposing strength or Jules' tenacity; anything he could offer to silence these idiots. But he was Marty. Just Marty. Marty the clown, Marty the joker, the comic relief. And so more muted sniggering followed, until finally it was too much for one of them to contain; he erupted into loud guffaws of laughter, and was soon joined by his friends. This was evidently enough for Dana. She snapped her sketchbook shut, shoved it in her bag and promptly stormed out of the library, the eyes of every other student boring into her as the heavy door swung shut behind her. At this, Jules sprang up, slamming her own book shut and charging over to the table, unleashing a tirade of profanity upon the unsuspecting victims. Meanwhile Marty slipped out after Dana, unable to keep himself from smiling as Jules' foul language reverberated around the room. Poor guys, he thought.
Dana was furious. She burst out of the library doors and barged straight into a group of girls she didn't know, but it looked like even they somehow knew about her; their eyes, narrow , judging, mocking, followed her down the corridor. Seconds later, Marty emerged from the library, eyes wheeling around in search of his friend. He saw her, shoving through groups of students who blocked her way. Marty started after her, cringing slightly as he heard the words "whore" and "home wrecker" hissed behind him by one of the girls Dana had bumped into. He didn't have time to get distracted. Dana had barrelled down the corridor, eager to escape the critical eyes that seemed to shadow her.
He found her fairly quickly; she was a creature of habit, and when she was upset she always retreated to her room. The door was open, and she was sitting on the floor, staring at the wall in front of her. Marty was slightly taken aback; he had expected tears. Tears he could handle. Tears could usually be dried with silly joke or snarky remarks. But this - this resigned silence - this was somehow worse. He loitered tentatively in the doorway, unsure as to whether he should enter. He knocked hesitantly. Dana looked up, valiantly attempting a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hey, Marty," she greeted him feebly."I just uh...just forgot my pencils." Marty nodded sagely, politely ignoring the fact that this was blatantly not true.
"Do you mind if I...?" he asked, tentatively poking a foot over the threshold and gesturing towards her. The corners of Dana's mouth quirked up into an almost-smile at his reticence. She shuffled along the floor to make room for him to sit down. He did so, and she sighed into the silence. They sat like this, still and quiet, for some time.
Ah. Silence. Marty hated silences. Silences were awkward. Uncomfortable. Silences needed to be filled.
Unsure of what to do, he picked up a stray paintbrush that lay next to his foot and started to tap out a rhythm on his kneecap, wishing he was better at these situations. He wished he knew which words would bring a smile back to Dana's face, or the words to make this whole horrible situation disappear altogether. He settled for placing an arm around her, a little awkwardly, still grabbing the paintbrush, but all in all a sincere attempt at comfort.
"You're not a whore." Marty stated in his slow and deliberate tone, internally cringing at his clumsy attempts at consolation. Jules would be so much better at this, he thought ruefully. But Jules wasn't here. It was up to him for now. At his words, Dana allowed herself a small smile, small but genuine. She turned to look up at him.
"I know. I know I'm not." She said truthfully. She paused."But thanks for saying it anyway."
"Any time. Now, a home wrecker on the other hand..." Marty continued, yelping as Dana laughed and playfully shoved him over. He grinned up at her from his position on the floor, delighted to see her smile again. Marty loved making her laugh, even the times when it was at him. And even if she never returned the feelings he had for her, he would always be there for her. Because that's what friends are for.