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We are stars... (for Maxxie)
Mar. 1st, 2012 11:10 amNothing had changed.
Lionel was gone. Had been gone for a week, now, and nothing had changed. There was no memorial service, no announcement in the paper. They'd become complacent. Disappearances happened every day-- what's one more? Marshall knew the future Lionel had waiting for him -- those last few seconds of it, anyway, but it didn't matter. Not when so few people even noticed he was gone.
He'd left his box of mementos under his bed. He couldn't bring himself to take them out and look at them. The days passed like any other and he got out of bed, even if he didn't really want to, and he worked and did all the things he was expected to do, but he couldn't stop the thoughts in his head. He couldn't stop thinking about Tony fucking Stonem and about Maxxie, and how long it had been since Marshall had seen him sober.
He couldn't stop himself from wishing he could go home, if only for a little while.
That afternoon, he got off work, he took off his apron and sat down at one of the tables in front of the bakery with a heavy sigh.
Lionel was gone. Had been gone for a week, now, and nothing had changed. There was no memorial service, no announcement in the paper. They'd become complacent. Disappearances happened every day-- what's one more? Marshall knew the future Lionel had waiting for him -- those last few seconds of it, anyway, but it didn't matter. Not when so few people even noticed he was gone.
He'd left his box of mementos under his bed. He couldn't bring himself to take them out and look at them. The days passed like any other and he got out of bed, even if he didn't really want to, and he worked and did all the things he was expected to do, but he couldn't stop the thoughts in his head. He couldn't stop thinking about Tony fucking Stonem and about Maxxie, and how long it had been since Marshall had seen him sober.
He couldn't stop himself from wishing he could go home, if only for a little while.
That afternoon, he got off work, he took off his apron and sat down at one of the tables in front of the bakery with a heavy sigh.
For Maxxie. (Early January)
Jan. 23rd, 2012 02:05 amIt had been a quiet few days.
He hadn't been hiding, not purposefully, but he just... happened to be spending more time in the flat he shared with Kate. The anger he'd felt had burned out within the first day. He tried not to be sentimental about it, tried not to think about the images he'd had in his head. His first New Years with a real boyfriend. The party. The midnight kiss. The little romantic gestures that seemed more and more pointless, more empty, now that he was in a real relationship. He couldn't romanticize it anymore. Because reality was flawed. It was difficult. It took work. It was easier to keep his distance from something so perfectly simple.
And things weren't really simple, anymore.
He was on the sofa in the apartment's small living room, thumbing through a book he wasn't reading. He tried not to think about that ruined night, but more than that, he tried not to think about Maxxie.
But he couldn't seem to stop.
He hadn't been hiding, not purposefully, but he just... happened to be spending more time in the flat he shared with Kate. The anger he'd felt had burned out within the first day. He tried not to be sentimental about it, tried not to think about the images he'd had in his head. His first New Years with a real boyfriend. The party. The midnight kiss. The little romantic gestures that seemed more and more pointless, more empty, now that he was in a real relationship. He couldn't romanticize it anymore. Because reality was flawed. It was difficult. It took work. It was easier to keep his distance from something so perfectly simple.
And things weren't really simple, anymore.
He was on the sofa in the apartment's small living room, thumbing through a book he wasn't reading. He tried not to think about that ruined night, but more than that, he tried not to think about Maxxie.
But he couldn't seem to stop.
For Kate. (November 10th)
Nov. 19th, 2011 05:32 pmHe didn't come home that night.
When he slipped into their hut in the early hours of the morning, he was showered and in clean clothes he'd found in the box, so at least he could say it didn't look like a walk of shame. And anyway, could you really classify it as a walk of shame when you were coming home from spending the night with your boyfriend?
Boyfriend.
It was crazy, and probably more terrifying than it had any right to be, but there was really no way to misunderstand the conversation he and Maxxie had the night before. That next step had been taken. They were really going to do this.
Walking over to his sister's door, he knocked politely, called out, "Hey, Kate, are you awake?"
When he slipped into their hut in the early hours of the morning, he was showered and in clean clothes he'd found in the box, so at least he could say it didn't look like a walk of shame. And anyway, could you really classify it as a walk of shame when you were coming home from spending the night with your boyfriend?
Boyfriend.
It was crazy, and probably more terrifying than it had any right to be, but there was really no way to misunderstand the conversation he and Maxxie had the night before. That next step had been taken. They were really going to do this.
Walking over to his sister's door, he knocked politely, called out, "Hey, Kate, are you awake?"
For Lionel
Oct. 9th, 2011 01:56 pmHe had a neatly wrapped package of cookies in his hands.
Thankfully, he didn't really give a shit how lame it might've looked, and how it wouldn't even come close to bridging the gap between the two of them, but he'd been using baked goods as peace offerings since he'd been old enough to work the stove, and it felt kind of weird going up to a person's door after a long absence empty handed.
He'd never gotten the nerve to ask if it had been a coincidence that put Lionel in the hut just across the boardwalk from his, or if it had been requested, but now, at least, it made the walk convenient. Pausing outside the door, Marshall lifted a hand to knock, his dusty Chuck Taylors shifting nervously in the sand below his feet.
Thankfully, he didn't really give a shit how lame it might've looked, and how it wouldn't even come close to bridging the gap between the two of them, but he'd been using baked goods as peace offerings since he'd been old enough to work the stove, and it felt kind of weird going up to a person's door after a long absence empty handed.
He'd never gotten the nerve to ask if it had been a coincidence that put Lionel in the hut just across the boardwalk from his, or if it had been requested, but now, at least, it made the walk convenient. Pausing outside the door, Marshall lifted a hand to knock, his dusty Chuck Taylors shifting nervously in the sand below his feet.
For Maxxie (Sept. 7th)
Sep. 30th, 2011 12:35 amThey hadn't spoken in a few days.
He'd spent that time, every free moment, stubbornly not thinking about the boy who'd already managed to claim a hut just a short stroll from his, not thinking about his dead best friend. His dead ex-boyfriend, who wasn't quite so dead, anymore. He had things to fill the time-- his classes and his jobs, and the script he'd been idly working on, but back in Overland Park, Lionel would've been the one he would've sought out to talk about this kind of thing. In his absence, that person was Kate, and then, somewhere along the line, it had kind of become Maxxie. They weren't dating, and it wasn't like they spent all their time pouring their hearts out to each other, but more than anything, they were friends.
Which didn't explain why he'd waited so long to go looking for him, after Lionel fucking Trane showed up on the porch of the bakery. His fucking bakery. He'd been hesitating, for three days, telling himself it wasn't something he needed to make a big deal over. Telling himself there wasn't anything to say. But after ten minutes studying in the rec room, he'd snapped his book shut with a sigh, gotten to his feet and made his way down into the basement toward Maxxie's room.
He waited outside the curtain, knowing better than to just walk in. "Maxxie?" he called, reaching out to rustle the curtain with a faint smile. The curtains made it a little bit hard to knock.
He'd spent that time, every free moment, stubbornly not thinking about the boy who'd already managed to claim a hut just a short stroll from his, not thinking about his dead best friend. His dead ex-boyfriend, who wasn't quite so dead, anymore. He had things to fill the time-- his classes and his jobs, and the script he'd been idly working on, but back in Overland Park, Lionel would've been the one he would've sought out to talk about this kind of thing. In his absence, that person was Kate, and then, somewhere along the line, it had kind of become Maxxie. They weren't dating, and it wasn't like they spent all their time pouring their hearts out to each other, but more than anything, they were friends.
Which didn't explain why he'd waited so long to go looking for him, after Lionel fucking Trane showed up on the porch of the bakery. His fucking bakery. He'd been hesitating, for three days, telling himself it wasn't something he needed to make a big deal over. Telling himself there wasn't anything to say. But after ten minutes studying in the rec room, he'd snapped his book shut with a sigh, gotten to his feet and made his way down into the basement toward Maxxie's room.
He waited outside the curtain, knowing better than to just walk in. "Maxxie?" he called, reaching out to rustle the curtain with a faint smile. The curtains made it a little bit hard to knock.
For Maxxie.
Jun. 27th, 2011 10:19 pmFrom here
It had taken a little convincing, talking his sister into letting him walk back without him, but when he'd told her he wouldn't be alone, when he maybe hinted that he might not be coming back to their room right away, realization dawned in her eyes and suddenly she'd become really, really intent on gleefully shoving him out the door with a parting shot about using protection.
He'd found Maxxie near the blackjack tables, and they'd had one last drink, making a show of enjoying the party before hurrying out into the night. It was a long walk, but it did little to calm Marshall's anxiousness, his skin practically tingling with every accidental and not-so-accidental brush of their hands as they walked down the boardwalk side by side.
"So, um, here we are," Marshall said, gesturing toward the Compound up ahead, feeling like he was suffocating in the stiff layers of his tuxedo.
It had taken a little convincing, talking his sister into letting him walk back without him, but when he'd told her he wouldn't be alone, when he maybe hinted that he might not be coming back to their room right away, realization dawned in her eyes and suddenly she'd become really, really intent on gleefully shoving him out the door with a parting shot about using protection.
He'd found Maxxie near the blackjack tables, and they'd had one last drink, making a show of enjoying the party before hurrying out into the night. It was a long walk, but it did little to calm Marshall's anxiousness, his skin practically tingling with every accidental and not-so-accidental brush of their hands as they walked down the boardwalk side by side.
"So, um, here we are," Marshall said, gesturing toward the Compound up ahead, feeling like he was suffocating in the stiff layers of his tuxedo.
All he could think was, at least this time Mom couldn't blame this whole thing on Dad.
It was an accident. And sure, he could've beaten himself up over it, convinced himself he never should've gone on the trip in the first place, but he was nowhere near pathetic enough to hide in his room away from things that might hurt him, his whole life. He'd been carrying an Epipen with him since that first awful reaction in kindergarten, when he'd passed out on the playground and most of the other kids had started to cry before the teaching assistant could get back with the first aid kit, and that was really all he could do now. And yeah, he felt like reheated shit, but he was safe in the clinic and feeling better by the minute, so really, the bee sting wasn't even the most horrifying thing to happen to him that weekend.
Leaning back in the clinic bed with a sigh, a little fuzzy from the antihistamines he'd been given, Marshall replayed bits and pieces of the night before over in his head, all culminating with Maxxie saying they needed to talk. A medical emergency seemed like nothing compared to that.
It was an accident. And sure, he could've beaten himself up over it, convinced himself he never should've gone on the trip in the first place, but he was nowhere near pathetic enough to hide in his room away from things that might hurt him, his whole life. He'd been carrying an Epipen with him since that first awful reaction in kindergarten, when he'd passed out on the playground and most of the other kids had started to cry before the teaching assistant could get back with the first aid kit, and that was really all he could do now. And yeah, he felt like reheated shit, but he was safe in the clinic and feeling better by the minute, so really, the bee sting wasn't even the most horrifying thing to happen to him that weekend.
Leaning back in the clinic bed with a sigh, a little fuzzy from the antihistamines he'd been given, Marshall replayed bits and pieces of the night before over in his head, all culminating with Maxxie saying they needed to talk. A medical emergency seemed like nothing compared to that.
The ground was even, and then it wasn't. Mid-step on the relative safety of Compound concrete, an out of date copy of the New York Times tucked under one arm and a cup of chai in hand, Marshall Gregson faltered, tumbling splat face down in mud that hadn't been there before. There was scalding chai splattered all down his front, and he moaned -- Jesus -- sputtering and spitting mud from his mouth and pushing to stand on his knees.
He was in the jungle. Paper ruined. Tea wasted. His lavender dress shirt stained beyond repair. Wiping dirt from his cheeks, he muttered to himself, "Wow, okay. Great start to the day, Marshall," and climbed unsteadily to his feet.
He turned in a slow circle, rain falling down on him in a warm mist, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw the shape of someone else in the distance. "Um, hi? Hello?" he called, inching toward them, darting a glance nervously over his shoulder.
Whatever was going on here, something told him it wasn't good.
He was in the jungle. Paper ruined. Tea wasted. His lavender dress shirt stained beyond repair. Wiping dirt from his cheeks, he muttered to himself, "Wow, okay. Great start to the day, Marshall," and climbed unsteadily to his feet.
He turned in a slow circle, rain falling down on him in a warm mist, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw the shape of someone else in the distance. "Um, hi? Hello?" he called, inching toward them, darting a glance nervously over his shoulder.
Whatever was going on here, something told him it wasn't good.
