The loud "thunk" of the ball brought Marshall to attention once more, and he clapped slowly for his dear friend. Fiona just scoffed, spitting into the neatly trimmed grass. The lime green field melted under that hot yellow orb in the sky, like a poorly written poem onto paper. You could practically see the squiggly lines of heating cutting their way sluggishly across the sky.

"Don't mock me Marshall, that was the worst shot I've made all day."

Fiona was decked out in soft blues that morning, from her jersey shirt right up to the sweatband shoved up past her sweaty forehead. The only components of her little uniform that didn't match the morning sky were her black cleats and long white socks, reaching past strong knees, partially sheltering a small pink bandage and its more than pink wound underneath. Even her eyes were a popping shade of blue, although they were far fiercer a shade than the clothing on her body.

The blonde chased after the soccer ball, collecting it once more from the net after scoring, and before running back to her previous spot. Standing, jogging, walking, all were steady and stable movements, unlike Marshall she had neither quiver nor slouch to her step on any occasion. It just wasn't fair.

"This would be a lot easier," she huffed between footsteps, "if you would at least attempt to be a proper goalie."

But Marshall just shook his head and continued to watch her run back and forth, mesmerized by all the flaw free patterns intertwined with inhuman levels of stamina. When he had first met and befriended Fiona several years ago, Marshall had tried signing up for a sport too, just to impress her. As it turned out, Marshall Lee and Co-Ed Baseball are very different words for a reason.

"Why do you hate him so much?"

Fiona punted the ball, and it flew before rolling lazily across the unmarked parking lot. Had there been a crowd, the would have cheered.

Or maybe they wouldn't have.

Marshall wasn't really sure how soccer worked.

Regardless, Fiona let the ball sit there for a bit, alone among a small number of trees. She exhaled softly, trying once more to tuck away the run away strand. Her hair, honestly at this point, might as well be shaved off. She spent more time correcting it then she ever did on the actual styling. And she hated having to spend time on either. As you may have guessed, she wasn't the hair type. Or the makeup type. Or the shoes type. Though she did have some Nike's she was partial to.

"Actually, the soccer ball's a she, and we get along pretty well these days."

A couple of birds were fighting over something, but it was all in chirp format, which made it hard to follow. Soon Marshall grew tired of trying. He tried for a not quite-laugh, the kind where you just exhale from your nostrils just a little louder than usual.

"You know who I mean."

"Yeah. Don't want to talk about it though."

At least she was honest. She went after the ball now, leaving Marshall to face an awkward sort of silence while he waited for her to return. Should he have come with? Probably. Was she taking an extra long time just to avoid ever having to talk to him again? He coughed a sort of not quite-cough.

Probably not.

It wasn't moist enough for a full on swarm, but Marshall still felt some sort of itching on his left ankle. Mosquitoes or not, he was always itching, like Inside Marshall was trying to break free from underneath his flesh prison and wear his body in reverse for a while. Lee finally examined little bump on his ankle. He prodded at it with his index finger, just to validate its reality. This time it wasn't Inside Marshall.

"I get you're all over the moon that he's sleeping with you, but you're smarter than this, you know? Do you really think it's worth it? That he cares about your feelings? Your mother? Your health? Your friends?" Unless Marshall had gone totally batshit, this was a solid indicator that Fiona was back, along with her she-ball. Well, he cares about my health at least. But the argument sounded weak even inside his head. Doctors could be assholes too; not respecting their patients, kicking teenage boys out of hospital rooms…

"I was just curious why you don't like him is all. Like, what did he ever do to you?" Fiona could feel her brow furrowing at the thought of this, her best friend trusting a near stranger over her. Of all the guys to choose over her, and of all the times to choose one. She knew that to an extent he couldn't help it, but to hear the words slip out was a different kind of pain than just visualizing them.

"It's not me I'm talking about. Well, not specifically." She kicked the ball again,into the goal this time. Soon the sun would be at its highest point, and the fields would fill with young athletes, and the parking lots with not so young cars. Fiona would have to leave, and find some other way to kill time. Weekends and days alike were all this way, she was home schooled and had nothing to turn to outside of sports and the world of online gaming. It would be beyond nice if Marshall was also on her program, and she figured it would cut out a significant amount of bullying, but these types of things required an active and responsible guardian.

Marshall was in silence, waiting for her to continue. He clasp his hands together and wrung at them like a jittery housewife. It worried Fiona that he worried so much. He used to not be like this. Or at least, less like this She used to be able to count from ten in her head, and by the time she hit one he was calm. Now even 20 was a godsend. She kicked the ball again, knowing she was partially to blame for all the nervousness. At least today.

"Well, he told you about his dad, didn't he?"