Until Lambs Become Lions- Mumford & Sons

Chapter 7- In which the author wishes books took less time to write

So like I feel like this chapter is a bit short and dumb, but I wanted to put something out, and you've all voted and followed and commented which is super fab and suprising so I figured I owe you lot... Well yeah. I have more written but its all weird chronologically,  but it'll eventually all come together for your viewing.  Thanks
(Oh also I found this wicked cute picture involving a ukulele,  so yeh)

We arrived back at our flat, having seen Ben to his. The walk home was quiet, and Marcus' promise seemed to hang ominously over both of our heads, with the unspoken agreement that it would be addressed at home hanging up there too.

   Marcus sat down on the couch as he entered the sitting area, and his hand raked through his hair. His leg began shaking up and down in nervous waves as he waited. I assumed he expected me to sit beside him, which I did. I wanted to say something, but then he spoke interjectedly, as if he had been practicing it all day long.

"I know you think I've been acting weird." he began. He was staring straight the whole time, but in that instant he chose to glance over at me with his imploring green eyes. "But I can assure you, I'm quite alright. Fantastic actually!"  He cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. "But.. uh.. I've just been afraid." (E-HM!) "I fancy you so much, I just..." he turned to me, his bright eyes wide as he locked them with my own. "I love you, Jillian. I really, really do. I've just been so scared that you would leave me . You came into my life when I really needed it, but I'm not ready to let you go. I can't let you leave me." His eyes seemed glassy now, and he clutched my hand and looked at me pleadingly.

I couldn't even fathom the words that still floated about the room like the smoke that occasionally drifted out of his mouth. "Marcus, I.... Why would I leave you? If anything Mr. "Hit band, leather jacket, motorcycle would leave me!" Marcus couldn't help but to break into a grin.

"You wouldn't leave me?"
"Why would I leave the only thing I care about?"
He froze. His grip on my hand lessened. "You-you.. Really?"

"Yes. There is no reason for me to just walk out on you. I love you, Marcus. You'd think you of all people would know that." he seemed overwhelmed an as he blinked, a tear from his eye came out, and he wiped it away, smiling. He hugged me so tight I thought I was going to die, but in that moment I seemed to realize that dying in his arms was the only way I would want to die.

  "Oh I love you so much!" he exclaimed into my back, as he burrowed his face into my shirt, not letting go.

Finally, he pulled away, only to gaze at me for a moment and then he crashed his lips into mine, and I could taste his smile as he kissed me. His arms wrapped back into the bear hug as we kissed, and suddenly he was standing up, carrying me. I wrapped my legs around him as he spun me around, only to fall back into the couch in a laughing, kissing heap.

I had gotten into quite a fight with Marcus over who should hold his guitar case on the way to the party. Ben and I had set up a drum kit on the small stage, but any other instruments were not to be found at the bar. Marcus was bringing an acoustic guitar and a mandolin to play, and I think he was hoping someone would bring in an electric guitar as well for him. I wasn't sure who he thought would have the sudden urge to tug an electric guitar along with them to a party, but I wouldn't be surprised. The mandolin didn't have a case, or at least it wasn't in our flat, so Marcus was just going to hold it on the way there. Which makes sense, right? And since he was already holding an instrument, I figured I would carry his guitar.

    This led to a whole speech about how he, as "the gentleman" couldn't allow me to carry the larger instrument, and he would rather I hold nothing. I had pointed out that it would be nice if we just drove there if the stuff was too difficult to take with us, or (here's the shocker!) me carry the mando' but he would have none of that. I also pointed out if he made me carry the case-less mandolin instead, I would be very tempted to play it and considering I hadn't the faintest idea how, he would be walking with some sort of dying cat attempt at music strumming alongside him. I got to carry the guitar.