Saturday, December 8th

Marceline sat beside her brother, waiting patiently for the bus on a horribly painted and chipped bench seat. Her brother thought it would be a better idea to have someone else drive tonight, as none of them wanted to be a DD. So instead of hiring an Uber, Marshal thought they would save money by taking the bus. She didn't know why that mattered, because neither of them had money troubles.

When they usually hung out, their activities consisted of some sort of seasonal fight. Fights as in snowball fights, squirt gun battles, leaves down your pants tag…Those sorts of activities. Obviously all of those games were normal. Then afterward they would grab lunch, walk around town and buy yet another musical instrument or jam at the music store if they couldn't find anything that sparked their interest. Every so often they would go to a bar with their fake ID's.

These encounters happened less and less over the past few months. It was both their faults. For Marceline, it was because she spent most of her time with her crush, and for Marshal, it was being depressed and never coming out of his room.

Marshal sighed, letting himself fall into the seat further, the bench squeaking in protest. "I think we should go to a bar." He'd been drinking more, it was only time that told when someone would see through his fake ID. Recently Marshal had to get a new one because of the use. Not that he used it a disgusting amount, which he had lately, but because of how cheaply made it was.

"Maybe you should fuck Garrison."

He chuckled. "As if that would ever happen," Marceline noted that he didn't deny the possibility of that happening. There was a connection. Maybe after years of pointing it out and making fun at his expense, Marshal did see it after all. "His father is back in town." The boy noticeably tensed up, even his posture showed worry.

Garrisons' father was horribly abusive in more ways than one. A terrifying man that should have been locked up long ago. Whether it be from the DUIs he somehow escaped or the beatings his mother took, or the public drunkenness. Even if he had cleared up his act, he was still terribly manipulative and anger ridden.

Though his family would face financial troubles, anything was better than having him in their lives.

"Is he visiting Garrison this time?"

"That was the plan." There weren't many times Marshal came off small and timid, but now was one of those times. "I don't want him to get hurt." He let out in a whisper.

Marceline threw an arm around her brother's wide shoulders, rubbing his arm in comfort. "Maybe you should go see him today. We can always do this another time." She suggested, half hoping she would take up his offer. In all honesty, she wanted to just sulk.

Marshal shrugged. "It's not until tomorrow. So we can still do this."

"Tomorrow then, go with him. It would probably make him feel safer."

Marshal hummed in response, thinking of the possibility. It would be better either way. Seeing him or being there as a buffer would be good for Garrison. "I think-Ah, never mind."

"No, what?"

Marshal finally sat up, slumping over to look at the dirty sidewalk. Stains from gum and wear were slathered across the concrete like a child paintings-abstract in its dull colors. "I think maybe Garrison hates me."

"Why do you say that?"

Marshal shrugged again. "I almost want to say he's avoiding me, but I know that can't be true because I see him all the time. It's like he doesn't want to talk. He's so distant and it's weird talking to him now."

"I'm going to ask something a bit odd. So don't get offended, alright?"

"Go ahead."

"Have you ever had feelings for him?"

He looked down at her. The dim black sky as his backdrop. No stars were in the sky here, adding to the grim situation at hand. Marshal bit his lip in thought and it became quiet, only the sound of the wind blowing up against them to dull the silence. His stare frantically searching her gaze to find the answer within himself. It seemed that he didn't even know the answer.

As much as she wanted to believe that she understood where he was coming from, she didn't. The only people she had felt anything toward were Ash and Bonnie, neither of which she had known that long before beginning their relationships.

"I don't know how to answer that." He confirmed.

"Just a yes or no is fine."

"No? I'm not sure…" Swallowing he glanced away for a moment of thought before returning back to her. "Can I ask something?"

Marceline shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

His face cringed, obviously hating having to ask his question. "How did you know you were gay?"

Marceline chuckled, thinking back to ta night than seemed as though it took place forever ago. "I got drunk and kissed a girl because I thought she was cute."

"That's not what I'm asking. How did you know?"

Marceline understood and looked up at the clear night sky in thought. "I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. It's like any crush, but at first, you feel like you've committed a crime for thinking it. You'd feel guilty because of social norms. Even when you try to ignore it, but that feeling will always be there. If you try to fight it, it only makes itself known even more."

He nodded, something in his eyes sparking something. It suddenly grew into a small flame inside of him. "That's how I feel then."

"What exactly do you feel?"

Marshal's lips curled downward into a frown, guilt dripping from his features. "Like I've caused him pain for not liking him back." He looked away and slumped over again.

"So you knew?"

"Yeah, I figured it out." His voice changed into a lower tone. "I'm not going to say he's made it obvious, but he's gone out of his way a few times to demonstrate...I don't know."

"And you said you don't like him?"

"I'm awful at relationships. No matter who with. It would never work out." It wasn't a no. He was avoiding saying it. As if it meant a guilty plea. "After everything went down with Fiona, I've done a lot of thinking. Maybe too much. I think...I have to change before anything good can become of any relationship I'm in. I'm just not mature enough, Marce."

Marceline nodded, patting her brothers back, before standing when the bus started to halt. The air emitting a loud puff to say it was completely stopped. The door creaked open.

"Let's go to the bar, yeah?"

"Yeah," Marshal sighed, standing and making his way onto the bus. "The bar."


"Are we going to talk about what's bothering you?" Her dad pried.

It was hard to see through his highly built walls. Sometimes it was hard to tell what her father's emotions are. He was a fairly happy man, but he could also be stoic and all too uptight.

Ever since she had told him about how she felt about the same gender, his mood switched when she was around. It was almost as if he was trying to break their relationship. Her mother never minded, and even welcomed her new lifestyle, but her dad's stubbornness wouldn't let him see that it had always been this way.

"Probably not." Bonnie kept reading her book on the living room couch. She didn't always like to be stuck up in her room. She was more social than some people would believe. When she was home, she hated being cooped up in her room and enjoyed her parent's company, even with the awkwardness of her and her father's relationship.

Her father sighed. "Why can't we just talk about this?"

Bonnie set down her book, marking the page with a creased corner. "We have talked about this." She set the book aside on the couch cushion next to her. "Multiple times. You always get defensive about it."

Her father nodded. "I'll try not to then. Please just…explain."

"What do you want to know?"

Her father thought for a second. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you like this?"

Bonnie pursed her lips, trying not to let her anger seethe into her explanation. "I wish I could tell you. I just am who I am. Er...I guess you could say God made me this way...have you asked him?"

"You think I haven't?" That stung more than it should have. "I've prayed a lot about it, sweetheart. I try to be accepting of it. It's just hard. Hard to accept that you're...falling into that lifestyle."

"Can I be honest?" She didn't wait for a response. "You really aren't that accepting. Every time I bring it up you bash it. You could always say nothing."

"Evangelism-"

"Yeah, I know. I've grown up in the church, but God said to love people."

"I do love you. I just don't agree with this choice."

"You've made that clear. Can we just not talk about this anymore? I'm here for another two weeks. I just want to enjoy myself and have nice conversations with my parents. It's the holidays." She picked up her book again, starting where she left off last time.

"Can I just ask one more thing?"

"Okay." She didn't look away or stop reading as she said it.

"Are you dating Marceline?"

A sigh escaped Bonnie's lips. "I already told you I wasn't dating anyone. I'm not dating her. I'm not dating Braco."

"Alright." He nodded. "Alright. Well, I love you."

She finally looked up from her book and gave a little smile. "I love you too, dad."


Thump, thump, thump

When Marshal drank, one way to tell if he was a little more than buzzed was if he was dragging his steps. They were lazy and he would walk slower than normal. Other than that, he didn't have any other giveaways. He was just as sarcastic and flirtatious as if he was sober.

He was by himself, walking the opposite way of his sister. Marceline was heading home while he headed to Garrison's house. It wasn't too far from the bus stop, a few blocks and a neighborhood over. He wasn't too far from home.

Marshal knew the way, as he had taken this route an inordinate amount of times over the course of a decade.

He turned into the neighborhood and saw Garrison's house from the entrance of the neighborhood. It was a decent-sized house that looked no different from the house over. The only way he knew was by the fence. It was a foot higher than the others around it. Garrison's father always believed in privacy. Privacy from other's knowledge about his horrific actions.

He approached the house as usual but found Garrison's father standing in the front yard with Garrison. Garrison was taller, not by much, but by a noticeable amount. His father threw his hands up in the air and jabbed a finger into his son's chest, Garrison unwavering and showing no sign of backing down. His mother wasn't outside. It was just the two of them.

"What the hell…" He breathed, walking faster up the road. He tripped on a small pothole in the road, quickly recovered, and watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Within the next second Garrison was on the ground, he took a right swing to his face.

Marshal found himself sprinting, practically leaping with each step. Why did he allow this to happen? Marceline was right. He should have been there. With each step, he could hear more and more of the father's angry words, the words that would fuel what was coming to him.

"Fuck you!" Marshal yelled, running at full speed.

"Who-" His father hit the ground before he could finish. The force of Marceline's fist against his temple was enough to send him into a state of borderline concussion. He was lucky to be awake. "Agh…" He groaned.

"Garrison call the cops," Marshal instructed, on his knees pinning down the drug-induced man. There would be no hope for him to get up, even without Marshal on top of him.

Still, the man pulled at his shirt and howled in anger, "Who the fuck do you think you are getting in my business, boy!" He managed to land a strong jab into Marshal's ribcage. An undeniable snapping feeling just about caused him to double over and let go.

Marshal's jaw clenched in anger, taking the father's head and slamming it into the concrete driveway to finish what he started. "You fucking bastard!" He practically screeched, landing another fist into the man's chest, causing the older man to let out a grunt of surprise induced pain.

"Oh my God!" Garrison's mother stood in the doorway, shutting herself up by clasping her hands to her mouth. Her PJ's indicated the fight woke her up.

Garrison pulled Marshal off of his father, leaving his now unconscious body on the grass. "Hey, it's over. It's over." Garrison whispered in his ear. Marshal panted, relaxing enough for Garrison to let him go and drop to his knees beside his best friend. "Thank you." He sighed, rubbing the side of his face that he was hit.

"I'll call the police." His mother told him, running into the house.

"Let me see." Marshal gently directed Garrison's face with his hand, examining his wound. Garrison stared into Marshal's eyes, wandering in their chocolate splendor. "It's not bad." Marshal, for the first time in his life, didn't ignore his stares as he had.

"Marshal I need to-" Marshal leaned into Garrison, pressing his lips softly against his friend's. They were softer than he thought they would be. He tasted of mint.

Marshal pulled himself back enough to rest his forehead on Garrison's, chuckling ever so slightly to breathily say, "I love you too."


To Garrison, seeing his father in handcuffs was a relief. Not to anyone else, it would have been seen as a nightmare, a worry fest at best, but to Garrison, it put him at rest.

The abuse didn't bother him as much as it should have, neither did his family being at risk with him around town. That pain was alleviated now. What Garrison was glad of was that his father was in a safe environment where he couldn't hurt anyone, not even himself.

As Garrison sat in the ambulance as medics looked over his wound, he gawked at Marshal who was talking to the sheriff just outside of the ambulance doors. The flashing red and blue illuminated his pale complexion. Garrison had to admit he looked good in those colors.

Marshal, every so often, would look over at Garrison and give a toothy grin, before continuing the story with the officer.

When the officer got the last of the information, Marshal climbed into the ambulance and sat by Garrison, taking his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"He hit me pretty hard. They said I didn't have a concussion, so that's good."

Marshal played with Garrison's fingers. "I'm glad."

"Oh, my baby." His mother entered the vehicle, unashamed of her informal attire. She hugged Garrison with a tight squeeze, then gave an equally huge hug to Marshal. "Thank you so much."

"It's no problem. If anything I went too far."

"Nonsense." She insisted, glancing down at their connected hands. "You put him in his place."

"And broke a rib." One of the medics added, jumping into the vehicle. "You're free to go Ms. Baer."

"Thank you again."

"All in a day's work." The medic replied.

They all exited the vehicle, Marshal needing help down.

"Marshal,"

"Hm?" He hummed.

"Let me drive you home, it's late."

"Alright." He wouldn't be arguing on that one.

The car ride was silent, not an awkward silence, but a needed one. Marshal immediately passed out in the passenger seat as soon as the car started, though he clenched tightly onto Garrison's hand the whole ride.


REPLY TIME

D3nsei: I have much more in mind than a simple visit, darling.

Princesssensei: Thank you! It makes me really happy that what I see in my head is interpreted so well in the minds of others. I hope I'll be able to keep up with such descriptive, yet objectively subjective writing.