Spend Some Time (Eminem Fanfic)

37. Consequences

Then I look at the message.

I need to talk to you. In private. So just go to the kitchen or something.

I look up at Marshall, meet eyes with him and frown.

He sighs and texts again.

I promise I ain't trying to start nothing. I just wanna apologize, aight?

I look up at him again, and I honestly can't tell why he had to text me this shit, whole sitting like only a couple of feet away from him.

He could've literally just walk up to me and tell me that, but that's Marshall for you, I guess.

I roll my eyes, then nod.

I get up and make my way to where I know the kitchen is.

Not long after, Marshall follows me.

He walks right by me and gets two beers from the fridge.

He hands me one.

"I shouldn't even be drinking nothing tonight," he mumbles to himself. "But fuck it. Feel like I need it right now for courage."

"Courage?" I ask incredulously, sitting down at the table.

Marshall pops open the bottle and takes a long swig of his beer.

He then takes a seat next to me.

We sit side by side at the table for a bit in silence.

Then he says.

"Fuck it, Mel. Like I told you, I just want to apologize. The way I had acted towards you at the VMAs, I'm sorry about that. The truth is, I was fucked-up that night. The drugs fucked me, and they fucked me really hard. I know it ain't really an excuse, but it is what it is. So I'm sorry. I don't even remember much of it, but..."

"You don't remember anything?" I ask incredulously.

"Nah, not really. I was told I was being a real dick to you though, so yeah, I'm sorry."

So he doesn't remember that we almost fucked at some backroom at the club that night?!

Well, that's a good thing, I guess, I think to myself, as I swallow hard.

I turn my head towards him slightly and see that Marshall continues to stare at me with an undiscernible expression on his face.

"Marshall, can I ask you something?" I say quietly. "Those drugs you just talked about taking. Why do you..."

"Why you asking me this?" He frowns. "What, you wanna judge me for this shit, just like everybody else does?" He starts to get defensive. "Don't get all fucking judemental on me about my damn medicine, Mel. You have no fucking idea what I go through every day, do you. When I first started fucking with it, it was cause I literally couldn't fucking sleep. I was overworked like a motherfucker, doing that damn 8 Mile movie, trying to record my album and D12 album at the same time, it's like I was working 24 hours a day damn near. And when I would get a chance to finally lay my head down for some rest, it just won't fucking come! I would lay in bed exhausted as hell but unable to sleep. So yeah, I started taking something for it. So what? You really gonna look down at me for this, Mel?!"

I sigh as I look deep into his eyes.

Seeing nothing but a fucking cry for help there. That he probably doesn't even realize is there, but I can see it all the same.

"No, Marshall, I'm not looking down on you," I put my palm against his cheek softly and he settles down a bit. I kick myself mentally, thinking to myself I have no business touching him like this, but I don't withdraw my hand. "But I just don't get it! Why don't you just slow down. You don't need to work so hard, so don't have to be out here recording like 3, 4 albums at the same damn time. You don't need to kill yourself. Just stop!"