Review replies, first foremost:

Bunnyrabbit202 Thanks for the compliments!

Raspberri-Marxie Ah yes! Those days where we lied about how we felt! Such wonderful periods of history indeed! But...yeah.

Anyways, on to chapter tree! Um...three! Christmas season lol

It had been a few months since Fumu and Bun were out of school, and things for the pair of best friends were starting to appear brighter than ever before. For once, it seemed as though the people of Dream Land actually cared about Kirby when they weren't in danger; a fantastic change in pace and outlook.

It should have been great.

Kirby's darker side, a side of Kirby Marx secretly prided himself in knowing of and caring for, vanished over the course of those months. And for some reason things now just started feeling...off. Was it selfish thing to wish for Kirby to be so...vulnerable again? Because since things have gotten better, this noche yet key aspect of their relationship effectively disappeared.

But then again, were great for Kirby, weren't they? Amazing, even. No longer would he have to bother the jester from his thoughts and his bouncing into comforting him out of an overly pessimistic (though admittedly justified) outlook of the Cappies' reactions to him whenever he was going out to buy stuff at the supermarket or eat out or anything! He definitely appeared confident in the past, though now this confidence was at last showing itself at home! By every conceivable measure, Marx should be proud; hell, excited for the puffball and his inexplicably revitalized public image. But he wasn't.

It should have been great.

Marx had met Kirby's friends. He liked Kirby's friends, Bun bring his personal favorite due to his mischief, but then he met Kirby's colleagues. He met the people Kirby somewhat knew and he met the people that knew Kirby (most of them at least). And things just didn't sit right with the jester. Something was surely amok beneath the surface...but what? Why was it only now that these people actually seemed to...you know...care about Kirby? That is was after these admittedly delightful cabinet minister kids were around that things started to change for the better...but why? Why then and not sooner?

These thoughts and questions plagued Marx's mind whenever he wasn't focused on keeping up with the others on whatever it was they were doing. ...Actually, scratch that; it's now clear that these thoughts have been seeping into everything else, distracting him, distancing him from the crowd that surrounded the puffball.

"Hey, Marx! You gonna pass the ball?" shouted Bun. They were passing around Marx's favorite ball by kicking it and hitting it. In attendance, beside the four obvious ones, were, surprisingly, Sword and Blade from the castle (apparently, Meta Knight was away doing "reconnaissance work"). All were situated a decently large flat area of green between Cappy Town and Kirby's house.

"Oh. Uh...hold on." Marx, although having just snapped back into reality, didn't feel any sudden sense of shock. As such, he deliberately toned his voice to sound more insecure, a practice he began long before these thoughts gained such prevalence. He was skilled in the fine art of deception, as when one had no way to reliably feed themselves, well...desperate times call for desperate measure. Not like anybody in attendance besides Kirby even knew that he had ever been on the streets before.

"Hold on..." Fumu interjected. "Time! Hold on. I...I don't understand."

"Wha-What do you mean...?" he quivered.

She started to approach the jester, a look of suspicion in her eyes. The kid was smart. Perhaps too smart for her own good.

"Look, Marx. You've been...well, a bit...let's just say, 'out of it' for a while now." she said. "Excuse me if I'm wrong, but I just find it weird you've like this because...well, I've seen you and how you behaved on your...um...debut. If you were so confident then, why not now?"

Fumu. Whyyyyyyyy

Perhaps having felt like she was being too aggressive, she softened her tone. "Like is something wrong? If so, we wanna help."

"Huh? We?" Sword complained; somewhat out of breath due to having only just arrived to the commotion from his spot on the field. "Like, I get it, but I'm not a doctor. Or available."

"But—"

"Fumu." It was Kirby. "Marx can be pretty shy. It...it just happens from time to time..."

The girl blinked. What.

"And if he was troubled by something, I don't think poyo should bother him about it."

He subvertally pat Marx on the back. Oh goodness thank you Kay.

Kay. That was a new nickname that Bun had attempted to force upon the puffball, but by now the jester was the only in the group that still occasionally refered to him as such.

"Okay...I guess." she responded. "Just want to help."

"It's okay, poyo! I understand, but...maybe not now, please?"

She thought about it for a bit. She shrugged. "Alright. As it was, everyone!"

And things went back on track. For the game at least.

The thoughts soon enough led to other thoughts. Some very selfish thoughts. Some very terrible thoughts that he would rarely allow his pink compatriot to know the details of...with one glaring exception when he um...yeah. He fell into the belief that, once the summer ended and the kids returned to their studies such, the Cappies and everyone else would again, as they usually did, ostracize alienate Kirby from their society, and the long history of abuse and torment that Marx had suffered through for far too long would return in full force. At least, that's how he justified himself in his descent. The torture I went through is going to hit not just myself, but Kirby, too! he'd tell himself. He might think he's had it rough but...

With that internal barrier overcome, Marx began to weigh every option he had at his disposal, no matter how insane. It certainly would appear like a descent into madness if he had, well, shown it. But he didn't. He had left that all behind. He had for months now lived a new, revitalized, and happy life with Kirby, but the one thing that remained from the past was this primitive, silent, yet ever-present thirst for vengeance. It had driven him before and it had driven him in some recent situations; he was full of himself and proud of it, dammit!

Having two fairly negative emotions dictate one's thoughts usually doesn't bode well, and yet Marx willingly allowed himself along this path. Marking his words, he vowed that he would somehow find a way to forever end the lingering fear of the end of he and Kirby's public grace period; a way to finally punish those jerks back home and the jerks over here; a way to ensure that they would never get hurt by anyone ever again... Oh, the power they would have—

"Marx?"

He was starring up at the ceiling. It was nighttime. How long had it been since day time again? In fact, how long has it been since—

"Marx."

He shifted to look toward Kirby, laying atop his own bed located across the house (more like room). He wasn't even covered by anything; it was as though he were just placed atop it. "You...you know where the Nova Comet is in the night sky?"

Hm. Some boring constellation-related thing. Okay, fine. Might as well actually do something with Kirby for once. "No." he answered. "Where is it?"

Kirby, after effortlessly getting up and waddling his way toward Marx, pointed the jester's attention toward the closest window, located not too far away. He leaned in to the point they were butting heads, but this was only because he trying to figure out where he could find the aforementioned space object from as close to Marx's perspective as he could get. His left eye was squinting and his right stub was busy scanning the night sky. "Right...there."

It was admittedly quite the bright object when compared to the stars that surrounded it. It was also larger than how most everything else appeared, but only just a tad; only barely big enough to distinguish itself. "Cool..." Marx said, somewhat legitimately impressed.

"It'll be passing over us, soon." Kirby said.

"Now is it?" How unexpectedly intriguing...

"When it does, everyone will be, um, making wishes and all. It's tradition."

"...And what would you be wishing for, exactly?" Marx asked.

"..." He fell silent, lips trembling, his expression somewhat uncertain. That was another thing that was off lately. Yeah, they were good friends protective of each other all that, but on occasion Kirby's actions suggested that he had some sort of deep obsession with him. The fact he hadn't exactly pulled away or, for a lack of better phrasing at the moment, gotten off him quite yet wasn't helping matters.

"Marx, I...I don't..." He was clinging on to him even more tightly than before. Well that escalated quickly. "I don't want this to stop."

"Wha—? Kay, what're you talking about?" Marx tried keeping half-joking tons of voice, as he wasn't sure what exactly Kirby was going on about.

"Th-this." he said. "What we have right now."

"...I'm not exactly sure what you mean. We're still close friends—"

"I know, poyo, but...I-I'm scared."

"What for?"

"You know...you. I know you don't want to bring much attention to it, but I can tell something's been bothering you."

"Did Tiff pressure you into doing this?" There. Sewing in some doubt about his friends' motives should get Kirby to stop prodding him for details.

"You mean Fumu."

"They're the same."

"Poyo, I'm being serious!" Kirby scolded. In his impatience and to assert himself, he had stood up, making the jester innerly sigh in relief.

"I am, too. Did she pressure you into worrying about little ol' me?" he mocked.

"She didn't! And besides, it wouldn't have mattered! Y-you're my friend. I—"

"Want to help. Yada yada yada. Not really helping your case here, Kay."

"But I do want to help! To try and fix what's wrong because you clearly aren't, poyo! Because I—"

Kirby stopped himself mid-sentence. He was starting to tear up, unable to hold up much of a stable emotional wall for any longer.

"Because what, exactly?" Marx asked. "Look, I appreciate the effort, but I don't need or want it."

The puffball was left with a look of sheer disbelief with Marx's complete and total apathy. What was his deal?? He acting like such a jerk! As a stray tear rolled down his face, he glared at the jester before turning around, tired and defeat, to return to his side of the room.

Finally...some alone time.

I know it's tough for ya, Kay, but I have some very...pertinent things to worry about...

"..." He could hear someone muttering in the distance. Was it just him, or was the room suddenly a lot darker than it was previously?

"Huh?" he asked.

"You said we were close friends."

"Kirby, come on. We're fine as it is. What else do I have to—"

"That was a lie and you don't even realize it."

What the— "Wha—? Kirby, what're you getting on at??"

The puffball began to re-emerge from the veil. Marx had a bad feeling about this... "You don't realize how far apart we've become."

Marx scooted backwards atop his bed.

"You don't realize how much I've bled for you..." Now in full clarity, the jester had to hold back from gagging. His eyes, his mouth, his stubs — most of everything that made up Kirby was dripping blood, all while having an unsettling smile on his face and a soulless stare glaring right down Marx's eyes.

"Kirby...?"

"...how much pain I took for you..."

"Kirby, y-you're scaring me—"

"Tell me, Marx..." He was cornered. "How does it feel...to be given such a...cold treatment?"

He felt like he was frozen solid. He couldn't move. "Kirby stop it..."

"It's terrible to get a taste of your own medicine, isn't it? Bitter... Painful..."

The puffball was now inches in front of the thoroughly terrified Marx, who by now was pleading for his life. "What do you want from me...?"

"We both know what's wrong with you." Kirby continued on. "What you're thinking of doing. And why wouldn't you be scared? It's only days before they leave and we're left all to ourselves again."

Days?? What? Wasn't it just—

"Help me, Marx. Help me end this pain."

"Wh... H-how? What're you—"

He was hushed by Kirby before he had a chance to speak any further.

"Tell me you love me."

Their lips were forced together, the purple one left with nothing but his eyes widened, completely engulfed in shock.

"Hey, Marx!"

He blinked.

"You gonna pass the ball?"

What the fuck was that?? "Y-yeah! Hold on... G-got a bit distracted by something."

He kicked the ball toward Fumu. Apparently, either his mind or reality itself wasn't going to give the time to process whatever just happened. If it even happened.

He set his gaze on Kirby, who innocently waved back at his best friend as though nothing was wrong. Maybe there isn't anything wrong. Maybe I'm just going crazy...

There was something stuck in focus in his mind, though. For some reason, it was prioritized above everything he just experienced. This "Nova Comet", whatever it was.

Maybe he should look into what it is.

TBC