Whoa, dang… I wake up at noon, go online and check my email to find that a lot of you guys like this series o3o I find it strange that you like something that I kinda rushed, but at the same time I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy LOL Thanks for your support!
LOL I like how everyone's all calling Martin genderbent Mary XD Let's see where it goes shall we?
Anyways, I kinda rushed this so it seems pretty bad right about now ._. Ah... OTL I suck... I had to revise it over and over after uploading x_x
Ever had those nights where you just lie awake in bed and time would pass by, but for some reason you just can't seem to bring yourself to sleep. Well it's one of those nights for Garry. He stared blankly at the ceiling for what seemed to be hours. He rolled over to his side, his eyes staring at the red numbers on his bedside table. Three in the morning… So much for taking better care of himself. He pushed his bangs back, rubbing his tired eyes, letting a groan escape his throat. He couldn't get his mind off that blonde kid. Was it the fact that he was dating Ib? No, can't be… Something like that shouldn't be bothering, but then again eerie and familiar was all he had to describe him. If he didn't know any better, it's almost as if Martin was… No, can't be. Mary died. He saw her burn away into nothing but ashes. The sight was still fresh in his mind. The sight of her sorrowful eyes as her skin became blackened by the flames that ate away at her body. And suddenly, he felt guilty. The girl only wanted to become real, but then again she was pretty crazy and not to mention deadly.
He rolled back onto his back and stared up at the ceiling once more. However, in the dark he could make out some marks on the white paint.
B U R N
The man quickly rubbed his eyes and looked again and the letters were gone. He sat up, kicking the covers back and sitting on the edge of his bed. God, he wanted to relieve some stress already. He just loves how he happens to run out of cigarettes when he needed it most. There should be lemon candy in the living room, right? He walked out his bedroom door, dragging his feet along the wooden floor for the treats that would curb his need for nicotine. The artist plopped onto the couch, grabbing a lemon candy from the opened bag on the table and popping on in his mouth. The sweet and sour taste dissipated on his tongue, satiating his craving. He let the candy rattle around his mouth for a bit before deciding to bite down to shatter it.
MURDERER
Suddenly the room lit up for brief moment. He looked up at the lights and watched them flicker before making way for the light switch. He cursed the fuse box for his apartment under his breath and flipped the switch, turning on the lights. Suddenly, he regretted turning on the lights. The candies rolled on the floor away from the bag they were previously packaged in. His knees suddenly felt like jelly and gave away under him. He slid down against his door, his face growing pale and his throat dry.
KILLED
He blinked his eyes, giving himself a good slap in the face. It can't be real. This was reality, sweet reality. The reality where red letters don't randomly appear, telling you to burn and calling you a murderer. He opened his eyes to find the letters had disappeared as if they never existed. He felt his stomach churn as if he wanted to vomit. Looks like lemon candies won't be enough anymore…
"So where are we going?" Martin asked curiously, looking at Ib.
"Garry's place. He seemed stressed lately, so I wanted to check up on him." She answered with a sweet smile. Ib was getting concerned when she didn't see him out of his apartment that often. Normally she'd see him go down to the convenience store for more cigarettes – and often scolded him for it. Her fingers tightened around the white box she was holding. "Besides, we haven't talked as much as before lately so I kinda miss him."
Martin smiled and walked in front of her. "Ib, you're such a good friend." He gave her a gentle peck on the cheek, giving an impish smile. "I'm almost jealous."
The young brunette blushed and averted her eyes. Even if they've been going out for a few months, she was still shy when he did gestures like that. It made her heart skip a beat. She quickened her pace. "C-C'mon, let's just hurry up and get to Garry's house before he smokes again." By then she was almost at the crosswalk, leaving Martin in the dust.
"H-Hey, wait up!"
Ib's never felt so happy until today. Maybe it was the fact that she was able to spent the day with the two people she loved the most. Even so she was happy when it was just her and Garry, reading and painting, doing the things they did for fun. Although there were times she didn't like that Garry made her wait until she was old enough for certain subjects. She felt that she was mature enough to handle it, but being a teenager now, she has a better understand as to why. However, there were times she felt as if she couldn't be Garry's friend. Stupid age gap. Often she felt as if she was a burden to Garry and other times she felt like that she'll only be a kid to him. Well on the bright they were still close as friends. That was enough for her, right?
She arrived at his door, taking a deep breath as she stood outside, ready to knock. It's awkward for her to randomly drop by without a call, but maybe a change of pace was what he needed.
Knock knock
No answer. She knocked again. "Garry, I know you're home. The landlord said you haven't left for a while."
Still nothing. Alright, now Ib's starting to get a little scared. She began to reach her hand in the potted plant by his door, carefully balancing the macaroons in her other hand. In the moist soil she found the spare key. Thank goodness he took her advice about the key. Now if only he'd take her advice about stitching up the holes in his coat's pockets.
"Ib, isn't that breaking and entering? What if he's not really home?" Martin asked nervously.
"It's fine. Even if he's not home, we'll just drop off the macaroons and be on our way, no biggie."
Sadly she was wrong. The door slowly swung open, allowing the two in. Ib called his name, but there was still no answer. She walked into the living room where she expected to find him deeply focused on a new piece, but unfortunately it was never the case. The little white container fell on the floor, spilling and scatter the blue macaroons, now crumbled and splattering sweet cream before her feet.
Garry was on the floor, his eyes closed and his face twisted into an expression that said "Help me."
Ib screamed and ran to his side, calling out his name and shaking his shoulders, desperately hoping that it was just a joke. Tears began to form in the corner of her eyes as she began to realize that his warmth was starting to fade. She looked up to Martin with desperate crimson eyes. "Martin, get help!"
"But Ib, are you-"
"Hurry!" As Martin ran out to find help, she held Garry's hand, begging him to be strong and to hang in there. She noticed the yellow candies throughout the living room floor. Just what happened in here? She back at Garry and noticed something clutched in his other hand. At a closer look she could tell it was shiny and flat. She pulled it out of his hand and felt her heart sink, looking at Garry's pained face.
Garry… Why was there a palette knife in your hand…?
