Long time no see everyone... I have been spending the past few years in not the best of circumstances but now things are brightening up, and with it my creative interests, I've gotten back into writing, with a two new projects in the works. A fanfiction based on Borderlands and my own original project based on an old D&D campaign that I hold dear. But as a sort of proof of concept and to flex what I've managed to improve in my writing over the years, I've decided to dig up the notes on the Change Rewrite and give it another go, I do not know if this will be a complete rewrite but I at least want to flex my writing muscles a bit to get back in the swing of things so might as well do something familiar, here you all go. Hope you enjoy.
XXX
The air was heavy, almost eerily silent. Moonbeams sneaked their way into Marco's room, casting an ethereal glow on his thoughtful face as he sat on his bed, weighed down by exhaustion and worry. Now 16, Marco had sprouted up a good half-foot, his hair a tad wilder, slightly longer, and a smattering of facial stubble gracing his previously boyish face. His attire, a dark red t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were just this side of too baggy, lay casually strewn about his bed alongside a dark grey zip-up hoodie. Rising from the bed, he began to pace the room, each footstep echoing his growing agitation.
"I should have stopped her," muttered Marco to himself, his voice bouncing off the room's four corners while he continued his late-night pacing.
The words were punctuated by the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his worn-out sneakers against the hardwood floor. He ran his jittery fingers through his messy mop of hair, the weight of a thousand potential scenarios bearing down on him. 'She could be in deep trouble,' his mind warned, looping an unwanted montage of worst-case outcomes. Visions of injury, arrest, even death, flitted through his thought process, each one darker and more horrifying than the last. Marco had always held a firm belief- to face the unknown, one must prepare for the worst. So there he was, mentally spelunking the deepest caves of disaster, fueled by worry and the biting edge of uncertainty.
One scenario that kept replaying in Marco's head was Star at a raucous house party. He pictured her, standing amidst throngs of party-goers, the hum of the bass vibrating in the air, and the occasional flash of multicolored lights illuminating her rebellious grin. In this town, house parties getting busted was as common as sprinkles on a donut, and predictably the siren's wail sliced through the night.
His heart clenched as he imagined Star, in all her stubborn glory, stepping forward, a challenge in her eyes, facing the cops instead of bolting like everyone else. Star had developed a hair-trigger temper lately, and the thought of it flaring up terrified him. He imagined her, all fiery indignation, standing toe-to-toe with the cops, words spewing out in a torrent of misguided bravado.
But what if she went too far? What if Star, hot-headed and cornered, threatened the officers? Worse, what if she did something monumentally stupid, like using her wand against the cops? Marco's heart pounded in his chest as the imagined scene played out brutally in his mind. There she was, a wanted criminal, her face plastered all over the news. The headline screaming out, "Local Teen Charged With Assaulting Police Officers", made his stomach churn. He could almost hear the solemn voice of a news anchor detailing how two officers were blasted by an unknown force. As the anxiety bubbled up within him, he shook his head, futilely attempting to banish the terrible vision.
Just as Marco's anxiety threatened to swallow him whole, a sudden THUMP - muffled yet unmistakable - echoed from the living room. "Guess who's home," he muttered to himself. A sigh of relief escaped him, deflating the tension that had been wound tight within his chest. His bed, which had seemingly morphed into a battleground of apprehension, now comforted him once again. The thump, an odd yet familiar sound, had become a strange sort of lullaby for him. Star was home, probably making a grand entrance as usual, and all was back to pseudo-normal in their chaotic world.
Marco could feel his fists clenching involuntarily, the soft fabric of his sheets crinkling under the intensity. His teeth were grit together, the name escaping from the narrow gap between them.
"Oskar," he hissed, the name tasting sour on his tongue.
The blame was squarely on him, the washed-up wannabe rockstar who had walked into Star's life and turned it upside down. The misguided romantic in Star had fallen for his ratty charm, and Marco could almost see the light inside her dimming, piece by piece. What was once a radiant glow was now a distant flicker, all thanks to him. The mere thought of it infuriated Marco. Star, being the ball of sunshine she was, deserved better than to have her world tainted by Oskar's touch. And for that, Marco knew he could never, ever forgive him.
The last three weekends had followed the same maddeningly predictable script. Star would sneak out, indulge a little too much booze, and then perform her signature move - a less than elegant tumble through the living room window, faceplanting on the carpet every single time. This peculiar dance was on repeat for the past three weeks. Marco tried his best to play the supportive best friend, tried to help her find her bearings literally and metaphorically, but every effort was met with the same cold retort, pushing him further away.
This time was no different. Star was stumbling worse than usual, each attempt to steady herself resulting in a sway that would put drunken sailors to shame. Marco sighed, an indication of concern rather than irritation, as he made his way down the wooden stairs. There she was, Star Butterfly, princess of another dimension, struggling to stand upright, her usually vibrant eyes clouded over, and Marco couldn't help but worry. Her wild, unpredictable antics were slowly morphing into a pattern of self-destruction, and he felt powerless to stop it.
Taking a deep breath, Marco began his cautious approach. It was like approaching a bear in hibernation - one wrong move and you're lunch. "Hey, Star," he said, his voice loud enough to cut through the fog of her inebriation, but gentle enough not to startle her. He took another step, each one measured and slow, like he was trying to walk on a sheet of paper-thin ice without making any cracks. "It's just me, Marco," he reassured her, even though he wasn't entirely sure if it was for her benefit or his own. The last time he forgot this precaution, he found himself face-to-face with the glowing, humming tip of Star's wand a fraction of a second faster than any law of physics would have deemed possible. It was a close shave he didn't care to repeat. The tension in the room was comparable to diffusing a bomb, all he needed was a green wire to cut and he'd be home free.
Star's attire had taken a turn for the radical since she began dating Oskar. What was once a cascade of curly blonde locks now hung straight, rebelliously dipped in a shade of purple at the ends. She took to wearing a snug jacket decorated with a pink skull emblem at the back, a tank top peeking out from underneath. Her lower half was dressed in a flirtatiously fluffy black and pink skirt, paired with torn nylons and boots that clung just below her knees. The smoky eye shadow that she wore was heavy enough to match the intensity in her eyes, and the piercings in her nose and lip added an edge to her look.
But there was one addition Marco noticed, one that Star went to great lengths to hide: a bold tattoo splayed across her right arm proclaiming 'Punk for Life!'. She was adamant about keeping it concealed, but her tipsy stumbles back from late night bashes gave it away. When Marco had initially confronted her about it, she responded in the most Star-like way possible—by flipping him off and storming into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
For a moment, Star's gaze landed on Marco, and her expression morphed into something completely unanticipated - recognition. A grin stretched across her face, one that hadn't been directed at Marco in close to a fortnight. It was genuine, perhaps even slightly giddy, suggesting she might've been unusually high on spirits that evening.
As she stood up to approach him, Star seemed to have all the grace of a newborn fawn on ice. She took a step forward and immediately tripped over an invisible obstacle, lurching forward with a startled yelp. But Marco, ever the responsible 'Safe Kid', was already moving. His reflexes honed from countless monster fights kicked in, and he caught her just in time, his arm snapping out to loop around her waist. She let out a round of giggles that flooded the room, the sound as unexpected as rain in the desert, yet it was music to Marco's ears.
Star suddenly enveloped Marco in a bone-crushing hug, her words stretched longer and blurred as if she were trying to speak through a mouthful of marshmallows. "Marco! When did you get here?" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with an infectious enthusiasm.
"I've been here, Star," Marco replied, a note of amusement creeping into his tone. "We've been talking for at least two minutes now."
Star pulled back, her eyes wider than bowling balls. "Oh," she uttered, her voice flat, as if the fact of his presence had just dawned on her. She then squinted down at the floor, her brows knitting together in a look of intense concentration. "Is it just me or is the carpet pattern moving?" she asked, tilting her head curiously, her previous enthusiasm replaced with a sense of wonderment.
Marco glanced down at Star, his heart aching at the sight of her in such a state. Once upon a time, Star was like a living, breathing sunbeam - her radiant personality enough to transform the most sullen of scowls into a joyous grin. She was the embodiment of cheerfulness in a world that often felt too dour, too grim. But Oskar... that louse had trampled all over her sunshine, snuffing out her light simply because he was capable of it.
Marco's mind raced back to the first time he had stumbled upon Star in this state, her cheeks flushed with alcohol and her usually sparkling eyes glazed over. He had found Star slumped on the ground, a plastic cup in her hand. The sight of Star, once a beacon of energy and enthusiasm, reduced to this hollow caricature had left him shell-shocked. Mustering all the courage he had, he had tried to reason with her, his voice fraught with concern.
He'd stammered, "Star... These parties, this drinking... If you get caught underage, it's going to mess things up for you."
However, Star's response was colder and sharper than an icicle. "Fuck off, Marco," she'd retorted, her voice void of its usual warmth, her icy tone cutting through him
He remembered recoiling, shocked at her harsh words. It was probably the first time he'd ever heard Star utter a swear word, let alone direct it at him.
"Star, maybe it's time you hit the hay." Marco suggested, his voice filled with an unspoken concern. The idea was more for her wellbeing than anything else.
"Okay!" Star responded, her voice echoing a giddy tone that Marco hadn't heard in ages.
It was a sound that threw him back in time, back to simpler days where laughter and adventure were their only concerns. As a sense of nostalgia washed over him, he gently looped his arm around her, guiding her across the living room and towards the promise of a good night's sleep.
XXX
A month earlier, Star and Marco had a different routine. The air was filled with an infectious energy as Star practically bounced beside Marco, her heart throbbing in her chest like a wild drum, her stomach alive with fluttering butterflies. With every jump, her ponytails bobbed, enhancing her already evident enthusiasm.
On the other hand, Marco's face was a mask of deep concern, his stomach tied up in knots of dread, and his brow creased with worry lines. The idea of Star going out with Oskar didn't sit well with him, souring his mood like a bitter aftertaste.
As they approached the school, a scene of contrasting energy unfolded. Youngsters were trickling in, some full of life, sprinting towards the school building, while others dragged their feet in reluctant obedience to the school bell. Marco had an uncanny knack for sniffing out the genuine from the pretentious. Here at their school, genuine enthusiasm was as rare as hen's teeth. The majority sauntered through their school days in a state of apathetic endurance.
Oskar, once again, had decided that the hood of a car - whose ownership was in serious doubt in Marco's mind - was the perfect stage for his next musical masterpiece. His hair, having apparently taken on a life of its own, now draped over his face, almost as a curtain to his world of sounds. The overgrown mane only added to his obscure charm, if you could call it that. His outfit screamed 'trying too hard', a classic black leather jacket draped over his slim frame, fingerless gloves gripping his beloved keytar.
The keytar, a relic of a bygone era, was his weapon of choice. And much like a cat toying with a mouse, he was merciless in his assault. He strummed with wild abandon, creating a cacophony of notes that seemed to dance to their own discordant rhythm, oblivious to the concept of harmony. It was as if the worst of the '80s synth loops had been distilled into this one tune, an off-key melody that was as grating as it was unforgettable. Yet, in his own way, he seemed to relish the noise, lost in his personal symphony of sounds.
Star halted in her tracks, a sense of determination etching itself onto her face. As if bracing herself for the impending onslaught of discordant notes, she took a deep, steadying breath. The corners of her lips twitched upwards, a ghost of a smile touched her face. With newfound resolve, she began her slow march towards the car hood-turned-stage.
As she approached, Oskar remained blissfully unaware, his world limited to the realm of his musical chaos. His eyes were closed, fingers dancing over the keys in a rhythm only he understood. He was lost to the world, consumed by his tune.
Star, on her part, radiated an aura of nerves and hope intertwined. Her eyes were alight with excitement, but her bouncing gave away the slight trepidation she felt. Her heart danced in her chest to a rhythm far more coherent than the notes that flowed out of the keytar. Yet through it all, she held onto the fluttering threads of hope that today, she would finally grab his attention.
"Hey," Star began, her voice barely above a whisper. Oskar didn't even bat an eye; his fingers kept up their frenzied pace on the keytar, completely lost in his world of asymmetrical melodies. Star's eyes darted nervously, and she took a step forward, waving a hand in front of his face. "Uh… Oskar?"
His eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright, his music coming to an abrupt end. But as soon as he realized it was just Star, his posture relaxed and he returned to his neutral, detached demeanor. "Oh, hey…" he mumbled, his attention already drifting back to his keytar.
Star looked down, her fingers nervously tangling themselves in her hair. She took a deep breath, her lips silently counting to three. Then, in an outburst as sudden as a firework, she blurted, "I always thought you were cute wanna go out?!" The words tumbled out in a breathless rush, her cheeks turning a shade of pink to match her hearts-themed dress.
For a moment, Oskar just looked at her, his eyes roving over her body as if she were an art piece being evaluated for auction. Marco, observing from the background, tightened his grip around his green backpack, a scowl creeping onto his face as he glared at the back of Oskar's head.
Oskar shrugged, a nonchalant tilt of his shoulders that was the epitome of indifference. "Sure," he replied, his attention already sliding back to his beloved instrument.
Star's eyes snapped open, a wide grin stretching across her face as her eyes twinkled like the evening stars. "Really?!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with raw excitement.
Oskar chuckled lightly, a sound that was lost within the noise of the surrounding environment. "Yeah," He examined her again, his gaze roving leisurely up and down her form. "You're pretty hot, so why not."
Star chose to ignore the rather tactless comment, instead, she basked in the warm glow of the moment. This was what she had been waiting for, a chance to be with Oskar. Responding to the unexpected acceptance, she enveloped him in a joyful squeeze, which he returned somewhat awkwardly.
From a distance, Marco watched the scene unfold, his hands clenching involuntarily. He felt a surge of anger course through him. Oskar had agreed to go out with Star just because of her looks, nothing more, nothing less. As the bitter taste of jealousy clouded his senses, he couldn't help but hope that this fling wouldn't last long. Deep down, he wished that Star would realize that Oskar wasn't the guy for her.
XXX
Marco's muscles ached as he supported Star's sandbag-like weight, each step upstairs feeling like a herculean task. Her room door creaked open, unveiling the expansive bedroom blanketed in the soft glow of fairy lights. Star hung heavily on his arms, her usual vibrant energy reduced to a mere flicker. With a grunt, he carefully maneuvered her onto the plush expanse of her bed.
Barely conscious, Star mumbled a semi-coherent string of gratitude, her words slurring into unintelligibly soft murmurs before she finally succumbed to her body's demand for rest. Marco watched as her eyes fluttered shut, the usual spark replaced by a mask of exhaustion. He knelt by the bed, carefully rolling her onto her side - a sad but necessary precaution. He couldn't bear the thought of her choking if she were to get sick during the night.
As he stood from the floor, a pang of worry clawed at his insides. He hated seeing Star this way, robbed of her vitality. He wished, more than anything, that she could regain her old spark, her infectious enthusiasm.
The transformation began subtly, sneakily weaving its way into their lives a mere week and a half after Star and Oskar started dating. It all started with her hair. Star tried, at first, to keep it hidden. But the secret was out one day when Marco walked in on her brushing the newly dyed purple tips of her hair, a stark contrast to her usual blonde. His eyes widened in surprise, taking in the new, edgier Star. It wasn't just a change in hair color - it felt like a shift in her identity. As Star turned to face his stunned expression, the purple tips caught the light, flickering like the embers of a dying fire.
Marco, concern etched on his face, gingerly probed, "Did Oskar make you dye your hair, Star?" The question lacked any accusation, but was engulfed in a sea of concern. Star's response was immediate and defensive.
Like a mother dragon protecting her young, she jumped to her boyfriend's defense, the words tumbling out in a rapid outpour. "No, Marco! Oskar has nothing to do with this! I dyed my hair because I wanted to, okay? And why do you care anyway?"
Marco's gaze softened, his words carefully chosen, "Star, I care because I'm worried about you."
Star's eyes flashed defiantly, her voice rising an octave. "Well, you can be worried about me without bad-mouthing Oskar, Marco!"
The changes to Star's appearance continued, adding layers of uncertainty in Marco's mind. Next came the makeup, a drastic shift from her usual minimalistic approach. Thick layers of smoky mascara and the playful rotation of vibrant lipstick colors began to mask the Star he knew. While not entirely alarming, the transformation was enough to set off faint warning bells in Marco's mind. But what truly unnerved him was the fear of what might follow. Star, with her endearing naivety, had long held a candle for Oskar. Would she reshape her entire persona just to keep him close?
His worst fears were confirmed when her wardrobe underwent a seismic shift. Out were the pastel sundresses and quirky star-themed ensembles, and in came the brooding, edgier attire. Leather jackets, punk band t-shirts, darkened skirts, nylons, and a notable assortment of black boots and heels became her new norm. Every day, a different version of Star walked through the door, each one further removed from the girl he knew.
Each alteration sparked a fresh dispute, exchanges Marco regretted bitterly as they only seemed to nudge Star further from him and deeper into Oskar's orbit, making her progressively more receptive to Oskar's next 'enhancement.' Marco, however, was powerless to resist. He was swamped by fear, terror that the girl who had once been his best friend and confidante was gradually fading away, only to be supplanted by this grotesque caricature.
His mind whirled back to that fateful night, the first time he'd ever seen Star in such a state. Her words slurred and her steps uncertain, it was a sight that shattered his heart into a million pieces. Star had always been an unyielding tower of strength, a beacon of positivity. Seeing her succumb to this debilitating state was an undeniable testament to her fall from grace. And Marco couldn't shake the notion that Oskar was the puppet master, orchestrating Star's descent with a cruel gleam in his eyes. The realization made his blood curdle, a potent mix of rage and despair stirring within him. This was not the Star he knew and cherished, and he couldn't help but dread that she was slipping away from him, lured by Oskar's deceitful allure.
As the days passed, Star's disposition morphed from her once uplifting demeanor to an aloof and sassy attitude. Her speech turned crude, punctuated with an unsettling addition of expletives that were once alien to her vocabulary. The vibrant, positive girl was slowly being replaced by this stranger, a persona that seemed to relish in her newfound abrasiveness. Marco, ever persistent, tried to break through her shell, attempting with every conversation to reach the Star he knew was still there. However, each attempt only seemed to drive a deeper wedge between them. She began to pull away, reducing their interactions to a bare minimum and masterfully evading his every attempt at a heart-to-heart. The more he sought to connect, the more she distanced herself, as if his concern was an unwelcome intruder she was eager to escape. All Marco could do was watch helplessly as their bond, once characterized by unyielding trust and shared secrets, crumbled under the weight of Star's transformation.
The tipping point, the one that left Marco in utter silence, was the tattoo. At first, Star had been careful to keep it concealed, always bundling up in a coat, jacket, or hoodie whenever she was around him or anyone else. But eventually, during an unguarded moment, he caught sight of it and was left utterly speechless. The tattoo was a stark departure from the Star he knew – an inconceivable adornment for the girl who once loved whimsical unicorns and rainbows. The shock of it sparked a heated argument, harsh words flung between them like fiery arrows. Their friendship, already strained, threatened to shatter completely under the weight of their words.
The tension between Star and Marco reached its zenith, nearly boiling over, as Marco clenched his fists in frustration and desperation. "Star, what on earth possessed you to do something so... so thoughtless?!" He blurted out, his voice echoing in the empty room. "If my parents catch sight of that tattoo, they'll ship you back to Mewni so fast, your head will spin!" He reminded her, his voice laced with fear and concern.
Star on the other hand, seemingly unaffected, retorted sharply, "Yes, that's true Marco, so if you don't want that to happen, you'd better keep your fucking mouth shut!" The hostility in the air between them was so thick, it could be cut with a knife.
But Marco, being Marco, couldn't let it go. The line he'd vowed never to cross, he did. In the heat of the moment, he blurted out his deepest grievance. "Star, you need to end things with Oskar." His voice was stern, his gaze unyielding. At that moment, he truly regretted his choice of words, but what's said could not be unsaid. The room fell into an intense silence, the tension building up to its breaking point.
Slap! The sound echoed in the aching silence, reverberating off the barren walls. Star's handprint was a pulsing red glow on Marco's cheek - a startling contrast to his otherwise pale complexion. Marco's eyes widened, disbelief flickering in his brown orbs. Yet, there was a part of him that wasn't surprised by this sudden, harsh retaliation. His careless demand had come with a steep price.
Tears were now streaming down Star's face, tracing wet paths over her freckles and dampening her golden cheeks. Marco felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest. "Great," he thought, "She's crying."
With a fiery look in her eyes, Star snapped at him, her voice choked with tears and raw emotion. "Shut up, Marco! Just shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Her words were punctuated with bitter sobs, each one like a dagger to Marco's heart.
Star's eyes then fell on her wand, its glow reflecting in her tear-filled eyes. She pointed it threateningly at Marco, her voice a dangerous whisper. "If you keep prodding, Marco, I swear I'll use this," she threatened. The room was once again filled with a tense silence, the crackle of magic from Star's wand the only sound piercing the quiet.
Caught in that frozen tableau, Marco was acutely aware that not a single word or apology would mend the rift that now stretched wide between them. He could see it in Star's expectant gaze - one false move, one misplaced utterance, and he'd find himself pressed against the wall, magic-induced pancake-style. So, instead of speaking, he simply sighed. His own tears, held at bay by sheer self-control, prickled at the edges of his eyes, but he remained stoic. Slowly, he turned away, his footsteps echoing painfully in the tension-filled room as he walked out the door, leaving Star alone with her threat and her tears.
The sound of Star collapsing to the floor behind him caused his heart to contract painfully in his chest. Her crying escalated, turning into heart-wrenching bawls echoing in the hollow room. It seemed she was as shocked by her own threat as he was. The door closed behind Marco with a soft click, leaving Star alone in her misery and regret.
Another thing that unnerved Marco was Star's wand. It had always been a reflection of the user's personality, and it had morphed alarmingly with Star's descent. A dark purple star replaced the original star, with a black tiara adorning the top point, and bat wings jutting out menacingly from each side. It was a stark, tangible representation of the shift within Star, of the darkness that had crept into her heart. Marco knew it was beyond help when her wand changed. He yearned for all this to stop, but was trapped in a dreadful conundrum. Sharing his concerns with his parents would inevitably lead to Star's parents being informed, and such a chain of events would surely result in him being forced to bid a permanent goodbye. The mere thought was too painful to bear. So he kept quiet, bearing the unbearable heaviness of his worry and helplessness alone.
There was one sanctuary in this storm, a beacon in the chaos - Jackie. If Marco was the rock standing firm amidst the tempestuous waves of Star's transformation, Jackie was the lighthouse guiding him through the murky darkness. Surprisingly understanding, she lent him not only a sympathetic ear but also a shoulder to lean on during these taxing times. She patiently listened as Marco poured out his fears and apprehensions, not dismissing his concerns but acknowledging them, validating his emotions while understanding his predicament. She shared his worries about Star, and yet, she grasped why he couldn't reveal all to his parents. She became his confidante, his safe harbor, protecting him from the relentless downpour of his own suppressed fears and anxieties.
Throughout this torturous month, Marco discovered an unexpected solace in his relationship with Jackie. Their bond, once a mere friendly connection, had transformed into something more profound, more substantial. The intensity of this shift took Marco by surprise. Their shared worry for Star had blossomed into mutually shared affection, and before they knew it, they were officially a couple. It was only a week ago when they had confessed their feelings to each other. Part of Marco hoped that Star would perceive his relationship with Jackie as a sign that he wasn't pestering her out of jealousy or envy over her having someone and Marco being alone. However, the revelation of their relationship had an unexpected outcome. Instead of finding contentment or acceptance, Star's reaction was one of anger, a potent, raw fury that left both Marco and Jackie stunned.
Marco was utterly perplexed by Star's reaction. Her response to his and Jackie's blossoming romance tiptoed eerily along the lines of possession, even jealousy. It was as though Star had expected him to consult her before diving headfirst into a new relationship, an expectation that, under the circumstances, seemed ludicrously paradoxical. Star had been avoiding him, creating an impenetrable barrier between them for weeks, which left Marco utterly clueless as to how he could have possibly sought her approval. This new development added an intricate layer of complexity to their already convoluted situation. Star seemed intent on keeping Marco at arm's length, yet she also harbored a sense of tone-deaf indignation at his attempts to seek solace in other relationships. It was a conundrum that left Marco more than a little bewildered.
Marco could still recall that bizarre argument like it was yesterday. He had invited Jackie over, a simple hangout that had quickly escalated into a cozy couch cuddling session. The two of them were entwined on the couch, lost in each other, when a sudden shout of Marco's name shattered the moment. It was Star. She stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and face an odd mix of shock and anger. The sight of Marco and Jackie, their arms wrapped around each other, seemed to have hit her like a freight train. The silence that followed was deafening, the tension in the room palpable. Marco could still remember the initial surprise, the confusion, and then the deep discomfort as Star's accusation filled the room, turning their once lighthearted hangout into a heated, heart-wrenching confrontation.
Their voices echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as the tension reached a boiling point. "What the fuck is going on, Marco?" Star demanded, her tone harsher than Marco had ever heard.
"Jackie's just hanging out with me. We're dating," Marco replied, baffled by Star's unexpected outburst. "And what exactly is your problem with that?"
Star's eyes narrowed into slits, a question hanging heavy in the air between them. "How long have you two been dating?" Marco shared a confused glance with Jackie, his eyebrows furrowed.
Before he could stammer out a response, Jackie interjected, "A few days. Why?"
Star scoffed, her expression a mask of disbelief and offense. "This is the first I'm hearing about this? Some best friend you are, Marco."
Marco could feel Jackie's grip on him tighten, her anger palpable. She shot back at Star, "Wait, best friend? You've been ignoring him for a goddamn month!"
"Stay out of this, Jackie," Star warned, her voice cold and her eyes flashing dangerously. Jackie blinked in disbelief, her grip on Marco's arm tightening.
"Stay out of this?" Jackie echoed incredulously. She let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, so when Marco has the nerve to call out your deadbeat boyfriend, you can cuss him out all you want?"
Her voice rose in pitch as she continued, "And you get to smack talk Marco in front of me all you want, and I just have to sit here and be quiet?" The accusation hung in the air, a challenge laid bare. The tension in the room escalated, a storm brewing on the horizon.
Star's voice cut through the tension, her tone shockingly dismissive. "I thought you'd at least mention it, Marco. A slight comment or something! You owe me that much as a friend."
Marco's eyebrows shot up, surprise morphing into irritation. "Talk?" he echoed incredulously. "Star, I've been trying to talk to you. Every attempt ends with you telling me to 'fuck off'. You can't have it both ways!" His voice carried the weight of his frustration, punctuating the ridiculous double standard Star was trying to enforce.
Star scoffed, throwing her hands in the air dismissively. "You know what, forget it! Forget I said anything. Better yet, forget I was even here!" she spat out, her voice dripping with venom. The words hung heavy in the room, a final, stinging rebuke before she turned on her heel. "Both of you can just... fuck off!" she declared, her voice echoing throughout the room. With that, she stormed out, her exit punctuated by the loud and defining slam of the front door.
In the sudden silence left behind, Marco and Jackie could only stare at the door, the aftermath of Star's departure hanging in the air. Marco wore an expression of worry and bafflement, his brows furrowed deeply as he tried to process the sudden outburst. Jackie, on the other hand, was just pissed, her grip tightening on the armrest of the couch, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin, angry line.
"What the hell was that?" Marco asked, his voice filled with genuine bafflement. His gaze fixed on the door, his mind spinning as he tried to make sense of Star's tumultuous exit. Jackie, however, cut through the confusion like a hot knife through butter, her seething anger giving her a jarring clarity.
"Star's being a brat, Marco," she said, her words biting and sharp. "She wants to play the rebel, but still expects to keep her hold on you, her claim as your best friend. It's hypocritical and unfair."
The next hour was a delicate balancing act for Marco. He spent the time trying to assuage Jackie's rage, keeping her from charging off to find Star and give her an earful. His words were soothing, a calming balm against the fiery anger throbbing in Jackie's veins.
Marco had rarely, and he means rarely ever seen Jackie this livid. Known for her cool and collected demeanor, this sudden display of fury was as surprising as it was concerning. However, he could understand the reason behind her wrath. Star's expectations from Jackie were nothing short of hypocritical. Star, who was quick to bombard Marco with incessant criticisms, seemed to think she had the right to unleash her magic on him the moment he dared to point out the glaring flaws in Oskar. Yet, when it came to Jackie speaking up, Star expected her to remain silent, swallowing her feelings and frustrations. It was clear to Marco, as it was to Jackie, that the situation was egregiously unjust.
Marco found himself lying in bed, thoughts spinning and heart heavy. It felt as though his world was crumbling around him, all because of one person. Star, once the epitome of joy and positivity, had become yet another disillusioned teen in the face of Oskar's influence. But Marco refused to accept this as the new norm. He knew Star — the real Star — was still there, buried beneath this layer of angst and rebellion. He was determined to break down this wall and bring back the girl he knew and cherished. Oskar wouldn't be allowed to distort her like this. As his eyes grew heavy and sleep crept in, Marco found himself clinging to hope. The future, he thought, just had to bring something promising. It had to return Star to him, and they could embark on a new chapter, a chapter that hopefully promised healing and growth.