Welcome back to Left Alone. Before proceeding, there are some review replies in order...
Bunnyrabbit202 Yes, I remember, and congratulations on actually getting an account proper. And yes, spoopy indeed.
Raspberri-Marxie The suspense is killing you, eh? Heh heh heh heh heh
And now...on to chapter 2.
Kirby and Marx would start to meet up more and more frequently as time continued its long march forward. After all, both of them had found a cure for their loneliness in the form of the companionship of the other, and with such a strong foundation, it shouldn't be surprising that their friendship continued to blossom. Within three months, Marx had gone from living on the streets in the Fringes to residing in Kirby's residence, a privilege he had denied in the past but had finally accepted as he couldn't help but find Kirby's generous offer of hospitality humble and cute, just as the puffball always was. He hadn't yet told Kirby about his lack of housing until much later, but that didn't matter in the short term or the long term.
Above all, they had each other, usually in the form of moral support and a source of confidence during crisis or friendly games during peace, the likes of which weren't too dissimilar to those Kirby had enjoyed in the past with Fumu and the like. In fact, Marx couldn't help but seem to Kirby like a combination of a little bit of all his friends; he cared for his wellbeing like Fumu, was childish at heart like Bun, and was a personal mentor-esque person like Meta Knight. But he was more than that, too, and unique in a very special way.
He did have his weaknesses; first and foremost, a total lack on any hand-like pertrusions. This meant that whilst Kirby was somewhat dependent on Marx in mentality and livelihood, Marx was completely dependent on Kirby for even the most basic of tasks. He was often forced to stay behind whenever Kirby left for an adventure, biding his time by bouncing on his favorite ball, talking among himself until the pink puff returned. How he even managed to at some point be in possession of a favorite ball (or...anything, really) puzzled the young star warrior. They found the aforementioned ball not too long after they first met, but this soon led to Kirby finding another strike against his newfound friend; Marx was very very possessive, and proud of it. But it was this "proud of it" part that proved the most difficult; in short, Marx had a very large ego, one which had been hidden on their first encounter, likely due to being in a distressed state, but with that gone, a new, previously unseen layer of Marx's personality had revealed itself.
This inevitably led to some points of tension between the two new colleagues, such as when Marx first moved in to Kirby's humble abode. His first comment was, of course, "Yeesh! This place is tiny! If I lived here, I'd've moved out pretty quickly." This caught Kirby off guard; his house had been perfectly adequate before, hadn't it? What was Marx's deal? He apologized later, saying it was a joke, but Kirby never really let go of that initial remark, especially once he demanded more than half of the available space for himself and the few things he had with him. He backed down pretty quickly.
But pretty much all of the time, none of these points against him really mattered all that much. Marx was a good roommate, and more often than not he was a charming, wonderful purple ball of fun. He would always ask something along the lines of "So how did it go?", eager to get every last detail, as if trying to imagine himself beside his best friend at his moments of triumph or there to comfort him at his moments of sadness. They would at times chat about a hypothetical best adventure ever, imagining such wonderous things as Kirby and Marx fighting against yarn monsters. One particularly interesting scenario was one in which Marx imagined himself possessed by an evil entity, after which Kirby immediately chimed in by saying that, by reminding him of their deep bond and the "power of friendship" or something, he'd be freed. It was like (heck, was) two children's imaginations running wild, and it was glorious.
But there were still the less splendid times, the ones in which Kirby was reminded of the self-centered later of Marx's personality. But, given their first encounter, he suspected that was easily eroded whenever he found himself in distress or was prodded just enough. He certainly seemed like the kind of guy who would brag about how well he'd do in a fight, and honestly wouldn't do half bad either, yet would never actually prove himself as he'd bruise quite easily. And a brutal proof of this theory would come not too long after it's conception.
It was nearing summertime, which meant that Fumu and Bun were, after what seemed like an eternity, freed from school. Excited as they were, they had informed Kirby that they'd be coming over to hang out with him as soon as their studies had adjourned. Kirby this decided that this was a perfect opportunity for a pleasant surprise, the surprise being Marx himself.
The two of them had just finished breakfast on that fateful day, and it was only a matter of time until the inevitable came to pass. Both were seated at a table, and Marx was clearly preoccupied. He hadn't said a thing since waking up. He had only been informed of the arrangements two days before; since his existence, as far as Cappy Town was concerned, was nonexistent due to his tendency to never leave the house, he was starting to have second thoughts.
"You think they'll like me?" Marx asked. "I-I don't want them to think I'm stealing you or anything..."
"Is okay, poyo!" Kirby replied without a hitch. His speech had drastically improved since the jester first entered his life, mainly because he actually had someone to talk to on a regular basis that wasn't his teacher for once. "I...um, am sure they like you!" Okay, so it wasn't perfect, but it was getting there.
Marx sighed, having recognized that Kirby had innocently overlooked the question. This wasn't the first time he's done something like that, but Marx wasn't at all comfortable with his fears still stuck inside him. He quivered, saying in a barely audible tone, "D-do you think I'm stealing you away?"
Now it couldn't be ignored, either by accident or on purpose. Kirby's face of excitement drooped pretty quickly. Marx hated himself whenever the star warrior did that, so that didn't really help matters much.
"W-Why you think that, poyo?" Kirby asked.
Marx shifted backwards in place. "I'm j-just a little insecure... Y-you know that. I just...don't want them t..." He didn't finish his sentence — that, or he had finished it so quietly that Kirby couldn't hear the last bit.
"What you — ehm, what do you mean?"
"...never mind..." he muttered.
"But...But you trust Kirby—me! Why can't you tell?"
"I...Y-you know what, now's not the right time, Kirby. I-I don't wanna do this anymore..."
Kirby gasped. "What? You no—"
"I'm sorry..."
"N...no... No!" he cried. "I not let you, poyo! I not let Marx leave!"
"W-Wha?? Kirby, I'm not saying that I want to stop being friends! I just...I..." Marx struggled.
"...Wh...What is it, then, poy?"
"I...I don't think I should go with you..."
"B...But poyo always say how you wanna come with Kirby when is away. You say yes when I asked poy, so why you now—"
"N-no. I won't. I-I'm too good for them." There it was.
"Marx..."
"I won't go."
"MARX!" Kirby slammed the table. Tears were streaming down his face, his voice desperate and angered. Marx was thoroughly shocked, but his resolve remained unchanged.
"Sorry, but no." His voice, by contrast, had turned ice cold.
Kirby soon went from hurt by Marx's words to enraged by them. He had seemed so excited for it and Kirby had gone through so much planning the intricacies of his reveal, and now the jester was expecting him to just ditch it? He was doing nothing but making it worse for the two of them! At the heat of the moment, he decided to give Marx some incentive.
He got up, slowly approaching Marx's corner of the house.
"Hey hey, wh-what're you doing? That's my—" He stooped right in his tracks.
"Poyo come with me..." Kirby pointed, "or I pop this ball." Big mistake.
"Y-you wouldn't..."
"Or I eat it. One of the two." He lifted it up off the floor.
Time played like a slideshow once he finished saying that.
SMACK*
He was kicked on the top of the head, and hard, the impact leaving a harsh sting as fell to the floor, hitting it with a loud THUD. He could hear a faint ringing noise. Everything felt and heard blurry, including the bounces of the ball as it slowly rolled out of focus.
"Get away from me you MONSTER!"
That was all he was, a monster.
SMACK*
He has kicked again, this time beside his cheek. The ringing got louder, the world got dimmer. He could taste the blood in his mouth. He could feel it dripping out onto the floor.
He deserved it. He was a monster.
Yet he clenched up for a third one. His eyes were kept tightly shut, his body bracing for impact.
There was a gasp. Someone was gasping. They said something.
Someone found him. Probably Fumu. They shouldn't be here. They should be leaving him alone to die.
Someone was on top of him, sobbing. They really wanted him to wake up, didn't they? Which was more cruel and selfish; wishing for death or pretending to be asleep?
Why wouldn't they leave him alone?
Why couldn't he have been left alone?
He was a monster. He deserved to be alone.
"Kirby, I can't do this without you..."
A stray tear just barely managed to escape his eyes. Just leave me alone...please... Let this monster die alone...
"Kirby, please... I-I couldn't control myself..."
They now layed their face atop the fallen beast. Two evenly spaced bits were like faucets trickling out a never ending stream of water. Much of their body was bruised. Were they attacked by something?
"I'm sorry..."
He felt like dying.
"Kirby..."
He was dying.
"Please just wake up..."
Wait...that voice. That was... "Marx?"
The puffball's eyes opened. All the numbness and ringing and everything went away in an instant. In front of him was Marx, his eyes were just as widely open as Kirby's were, filled to the brim just as much as Kirby's were. If it weren't for all their physical differences, the two of them would have easily thought they were looking in a mirror.
"I...I couldn't..." Marx stuttered.
"What...happened...?" Kirby groaned.
Marx blinked in disbelief. "I...I thought I..."
Kirby blinked in response.
"I thought I killed you..."
"Why, poyo...?"
"It...it's why I can't come with you."
"To die?"
If Marx wasn't in enough disbelief as it was, this was just — "W-wha—??"
Kirby raised an eyebrow (as in the expression; he doesn't have eyebrows). Was that the answer to his question?
Marx took a few deep breaths to collect himself. "N-no...Kirby. I mean...with your friends. I can't come with you to meet them. I just...I don't want them to hate me..."
Kirby wasn't really saddened as much as he was puzzled at this point. What was Marx's fuss? "I-I said you no need to worry. They-ll like poyo."
"I...I don't know. I never do. You...you, Kirby... You're the exception, not the norm..."
Marx was no longer looking Kirby in the eyes. He had drifted down into his own thoughts. His own painful thoughts of a life he had left behind once the door out had shown itself. Yet here is where it led him. Great.
Kirby scooter closer to his concerned colleague. "Were you...bullied?"
"Heh..." Marx scoffed, his tone still somber. "I can still remember their chants. I can still remember all the times I was kicked around or...was robbed in front of my eyes because I couldn't do a single. Fucking. Thing."
"...poyo..." It must've been so hard...
"It was."
Kirby covered his mouth in shock. He said that out loud? That was odd...it didn't feel that way.
"And don't get me started on all the other 'friends' I used to have..." Lacking the ability to convey air quotes, Marx opted for the old rhetorical trick of saying "friends" in a overly mocking tone. He finally turned to face the star warrior. "This place, Kirby, this 'Dream Land', as they call it," — somewhat less mockingly this time — "it hasn't felt like a dream for me. Never has... It feels more like an eternal nightmare..."
The puffball couldn't help but clench in horror. An eternal nightmare...
"Or, at least, it used to...until I met you."
Kirby suddenly started feeling a bit warmer. He was blushing.
"I...I don't want to fall back into the nightmare again, Kirby. So...please...I don't want to risk it. I know I got you all excited but I...I just can't. Not now."
Marx slowly picked himself up, sniffling before he was up on his feet. Kirby followed up shortly after, although much faster.
"Poyo... Y-you're hurt..." he pointed out.
The jester looked down at his bruised body. He laughed. "Yeah. I'm a total pushover when I'm...well...not angry."
"Heh...I guess..." Kirby trailed off before the room again became silent. He wanted to laugh with Marx's somewhat dark joke to lighten the mood, but it didn't, really. It just felt...awkward.
"Y-you should go. I don't want you to be late..." Marx softly smiled. "And don't worry. I'll still be here."
Kirby's face started to redden again. On the spur of the moment, he ran up to Marx before he went off to bounce on his ball again, as he usually did. "Wait, poyo!"
"Kirby, we've already—"
"I know. I understand you meet bad people before. But these are Kirby's friends, poyo! I...I know they...I know they'll like you."
Marx still wasn't really all that sure. He internally commended Kirby for his persistence, but this was a bit much.
"I promise." he whispered.
KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
"Kirby?" a young female voice called from outside.
"Kirby, you need to—" Marx started.
Kirby pulled him in closer. The puffball was warm to the touch. Okay...this was a bit uncomfortable...
"Please, Marx...? For me...?" his voice was on the verge of silence, quivering.
KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
"Hello? Kirby, it's us!" the girl continued calling.
"Maybe he's not here?" another voice, this time that of a little boy, commented.
"That wouldn't make sense, though... He said we'd meet up here."
"...Please..." Kirby struggled.
Marx shifted his focus from Kirby to the door and back. He didn't know where this tight embrace came from, but maybe...just maybe...it meant that perhaps Kirby wasn't as comfortable about this reunion as he had led on. That maybe he was as preoccupied as he had been.
He made up his mind. His resolve was changed. He was at last going to take the first steps into a brave new world.
"Alright." he muttered back. "Let's make it a good show."
Kirby patted his friend on the back. "Th...thank you... Thank you for—"
"C'mon! Let's go!"
"Huh?" the girl said.
"Who's there?" the boy followed up.
"The surprise." Marx responded. He smiled as though to mock the poor puffball who had so intricately planned the jester's big reveal, as now he had somewhat spoiled it. He was flicked upside the nose for that. Worth it.
"Hey!" Kirby whispered. "Keep it down!" He turned back to the door and spoke up, "Coming, poyo!"
Marx snickered at the temporary derailing of the plan. If he was now going to truly involve himself, he was going to make sure he had fun and a laugh doing so.
And boy, were there laughs to be had.
TBC