Oh dear this is a sack of shit.

I'm sorry for such a long wait, I… take a long time when it comes to writing. I, um, had a lot of trouble trying to introduce Marshall.

Please forgive me asfghkjf;l I will try to write the third chapter significantly faster.

But thank you all for the reviews! I'm so happy to know people actually like this, haha.

I screamed when I saw fanart. Fanart! By my favorite artist! So much joy. So much. I am rambling. Here we go!

It seemed like the right idea when she stepped inside the bar. It was small, but charming and warm, with walls covered in music paraphernalia and polaroid pictures. There was a small platform in the back corner, black amps lined its edges and lights hung above, their faces pointed downwards to shine upon whomever took the stage. A lone mic and chair held no company, yet both had years of wear on them.

The smell of good food seemed to cling to her as she took in the surroundings. A swinging kitchen door caught her eye as a waiter slipped out, handing a steaming meal to a customer sitting in one of the various wooden tables. The lighting itself was dim and cozy, it was as if you were revisiting and it was the hundredth time you've came in here. It was a little awkward for her, never having stepped in a bar before. Her interest of this place seemed to grow with every step.

It was probably for the best that she left, but her rebellion refused to die on so early. Despite her pounding heart, she let the door close behind her.

Soft music filtered out of speakers which hung from the walls. People chatted with one another, the occasional laugh erupting every now and then.

Approaching the counter, the dim yellow light overhead revealed her.
A young woman, with the face of a sweet doll. Her lavender eyes held a certain aspect of curiosity. Like if you didn't finish a sentence, she would evolve thousands of different conclusions. If you planted the thought that it was possible for everything to be made out of candy, she would worry all day if sugary citizens would be taken care of. A curtain of soft coffee brown hair hung above those eyes, silky strands brushing against the length of her lashes. Longer pieces splayed against her chest, wispy ends barely grazing her small hips. The girl was petite, garbed in her expensive sweater, a thin skirt, leggings, and boots.

From one glance it was easy to see she was overly-educated by the way she held herself as if she were destined for an elegant ballroom instead of a dingy bar. Few people noticed this, glancing at her wonderingly. Anxiety struck her once more. What if she was being too poise? Should she slouch her shoulders? Lower her gaze?

Oh, no, she thought. Her heart beat against her chest, as if it were trying to get out and run all the way back home. It was an action she was happy to oblige.

As she began to turn around, she caught a wisp of a word:

"Welcome."

Her body reacted to the greeting, turning this way and that to find its source. Waving fingers caught her eye to the culprit- a youth behind the counter who could not have been a day older than herself.

The bartender greeted her with an enthusiastic grin. His teeth were mostly crooked and misshapen, like he never decided to get braces. Despite that, his mouth was charming, the corners always just ever so slightly turned upward. Messy yellow hair stuck out like thick straw, framing his young, friendly face. The atmosphere around him was impeccably cheerful. She couldn't help but smile back.

"You're new here. It's easy to tell, but a lot of people come back 'cause they like The Cave. Stay for a while, si'down." Big, baby blue eyes twinkled at her with the promise of getting to know this curious blonde.

A thick gulp found itself caught in her throat. She felt shy. Nonetheless, she obeyed, taking a seat on one of the many bar stools. With a quick look at his uniform, she discovered his name was Finn.

"I…" Her voice came out, dryly. She almost blushed. It had been hours since she spoke before, her throat felt like a wilted flower.

"What's your name?"

"Excuse me?" Her words stumbled out thick and coarse. The bartender smiled. His face reminded her of a child she could not place the name upon.

"You've got to have a name, dude. A label, maybe? Something."

"O-oh… yes." She swallowed the lump in her throat, laughing weakly. Pursing her lips, she spoke "Bonnibel."

"Sweet," He laughed softly, a flicker of red against his lightly freckled face "nice to meet you."

Finn set a glass he had been cleaning down on the counter. He turned his back from her for a moment. She shifted awkwardly in her seat.

Her name felt so unfamiliar to her when she introduced herself. It was frequently the reason she avoided starting conversations. She always let her parents introduce her. It didn't belong to her at all, yet the misfortune was that it was still on her birth certificate. It was a constant reminder that she was not like any other. She couldn't help but be embarrassed. It was like expecting strawberry, when someone gave you vanilla. Both sweet, both names. Yet one was one thing, the other was another.

A sudden clink! brought its attention to her.

"You probably like thinking a bunch, don't you?" Finn's voice cut through her, causing her head to raise. His boyish face gleamed down, bright as the sun. "You were spacing out for like, a century."

"Ah… yes." Heat spread across her cheek "It's a bad habit." The blond laughed, pushing something towards her on the counter. "For you."

Bonnibel picked up the drink carefully. Looking at it closer, the liquids inside were clear. Her brow raised cautiously. Finn sputtered

"There isn't any alcohol in it!" He blurted, realizing the confusion. A dusting of red flew over his baby face. " I can't serve that, so it's just water. Jake's the usual bartender but he's sick."

She nodded and brought the drink to her lips, taking a slow sip, gradually draining the glass. It was cold, and it mended her dry throat soothingly. It was surprising, almost to the point of terrifying, how thirsty she was. The water was sugar-sweet against her dry throat, and before she knew it, there was nothing but air inside. A whole glass without water. A hollow shell, she took note of.

If the glass had been filled half way, which way would she look at it? Half full, or half empty?

The girl had barely put the cup down on the counter when the already dull light began to lower into darkness. The music that had once played faded out as well, silencing the soft mumble of conversation in the bar.

Soft white lights burst above the platform stage in the corner of the room. People began to clap and cheer and before she knew it she too found her attention swaying by their reaction. Bonnibel's eyes trailed from the nameless faces to the lone mic and chair she spotted just a moment ago. Those same eyes travelled towards the exit door. She anticipated it to burst open by now, her parents ready to drag her back home into bland, artificial life. The thought made her shutter.

"O-oh, by the way, um…Thank you," With her free hand, she fished through the pocket full of bills. "I know it was just water but… You seem like a nice guy." A slip of paper was placed on the counter before her gaze left him. Finn picked it up, and flinched. He almost dropped the bill, as if the amount burned his fingers.

"Wait, this is fif-" His voice drowned against the sea of the audience. They clapped merrily, some even whistled as an entity found its way towards the stage. Bonnibel looked at Finn one last time for an answer. The blonde, setting the money issue aside for now, shifted awkwardly.

"Oh, it's…" His voiced drawled, as if the answer irked him. "Entertainment. We do this every night. It's not special, he's just-"

"Entertainment…?"

Those innocent, violet eyes lay upon that chair on the platform. Against it now was a guitar, bright cherry red and gleaming.

Just then, the curtains around it seized open violently, the downward faced lights beaming their power onto a single entity.

When you described him plainly, it did not sound like much. A red plaid shirt, dark jeans, sneakers. But trailing up from the rail-thin body to the slim neck and above, everything seemed to halt.

It was like he was the only one she could see.
It was strange, she was a good amount away from him but the details were so fine tuned as if time decided to slow down in order to capture this new, interesting being. His face resonated against the light. Carrying his looks was an expression like no other she had ever seen before, hanging underneath the black fringe which swept across his forehead.

It was confidence, self righteousness. A hungry look, as if there was fiery potential inside his gaze that could burn down this little store. It was practically on the verge of mocking, this feeling that the young man on the stage could possess just from looking outwards towards the audience. He was intriguing, it was hard to look away.

The entity had something about him that made her nervous and excited, and yet somewhat depressed. There was no way a guy like that would even give her the time of day. She had the wrong clothes, the wrong overall look, it was embarrassing. The realization bit her bitterly. She began to pick at the sleeve of her sweater. Her mind willed herself not to look at him, and yet-

His eyes flickered. The color of turquoise, bright and aware as they caught her.

Bonnibel's heart froze. He, he was looking straight at her! His stare was piercing, she thought with every fiber of her being that he was reading her thoughts or just completely looking through her. The thought was terrifying.

Yet, he softened, if not for a second. A faint smile grazed his lips, his eyes trailing from her to the crowd. It was almost as if it was a task to look away. Cooly, he threw his body back and gripped at the microphone. The spark in his eye that fueled this stranger's odd charm began to light once more.

"Good evening, and welcome to The Cave, everyone. My name is Marshall Lee."