Spend Some Time (Eminem Fanfic)

70. Memories & Other Drugs

I pick up the remote and turn on the TV. Only to see that Marshall was watching something earlier.

It's his old tour footage. With Proof.

I want to turn it off as I almost feel like I'm invading on his privacy right now or something, but I just can't.

Marshall looks so young and happy there. Both him and Proof.

I watch them perform and goof around together backstage, and it breaks my heart.

"He was a great hype man, wasn't he?" A voice says behind me, and I jump.

I see Marshall walk back into the room, wearing a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with some Nikeys on his feet.

His face is rid of all emotion, and I immediately recognize his old defense mechanism.

"He was," I agree with him. "He was a great friend to you too."

"I guess," Marshall shrugs and sits on the couch next to me. He reaches for the remote and shuts off the TV.

I sigh and bring myself closer to him.

"Don't do that," I say. "Don't shut down again. I know that his death still hunts you, Marshall."

He doesn't say anything for a really long time then.

As a matter of fact, he doesn't even move. Just sits there like a stature.

"Marshall?" I call out to him, and when he finally does react, he suddenly grabs on to me and brings me into his chest.

I don't fight him, because I know that he needs that comfort right now. I wrap my arms around him, just like that day.

Marshall clicks the button on the remote again, resuming the play on the tape.

Then we lay together on the couch and just watch.

"You know," Marshall says as he rests his chin on my shoulder. "The night that he got shot, he asked me if I wanted to come along with him. To the club. I said no. Cause I just wanted to stay at home and get high. I stayed right here and just popped pills all night while he..."

"Marshall, it wasn't your fault," I interrupt him, seeing where he's going with this, and what it must mean to him.

"Maybe not," he says bitterly. "But I should've been there with him that night, you know? Maybe if I was there..."

"Then maybe you both would get shot!" I exclaim.

"Or maybe just me," Marshall starts to say. "Maybe it would've been so much better if I would've..."

"Don't you fucking dare say that," I interrupt him angrily. "Do you think Proof would've want that?!"

"Nah, you right," he agrees. "But then, he had so much to live for."

"But Marshall, so do you! You have your daughters, you have your family..."

"Proof did too, Mel. He had a family too that he's left behind. Don't you think that they needed him too?! So why the fuck him?! Why the fuck did he have to die yo? Him and not me, I just don'tfucking get that. Not that i would want to fucking die. Don't get me wrong, I don't! But I still don't get..."

I turn myself around to face him, and I press my whole body against his, just wanting to give him as much comfort as I possibly can, and hoping that proximity would do it for him, at least somewhat. I run my fingers down the side of his face

"Of course Proof's family needed him, Marshall. And you needed him too. But, at the end of the day, it was him and not you. Simple as that. There's no great rhyme or reason for it. Things just happen because they happen. I don't know what to tell you, other than it just was his time. But it isn't your time yet. Obviously. Because if it was, then you would've died that day on that operating table. Only you haven't. So shut the fuck up, and don't ever let me catch you say something like you wish you were the one to die instead of him again!" I exclaim that last sentence, and I feel tears in my eyes as I say it, and Marshall wipes them away with his thumbs.