A Marshmallow's Guide to Loving a Complete Idiot (Inanimate Insanity)(Marshple)

24. Be Honest About Your Feelings

It was a day for celebration either way. At least, that's what Marsh told herself.

Marsh stayed in bed for as long as she could. There were a few reasons for that. First, she was super tired from thinking about the letter so late last night; it kept her awake like doing any intellectually-demanding task did. Second, perhaps for the same reason, she had a mild headache that would be best resolved by extended bed rest.

Marsh read one of her non-romantic novels for thirty minutes. Then she tried to get back to sleep, and failed.

Then she looked at the broken mirror overlooking the room. Her face was split cleanly by one of its cracks.

She could only hope it wouldn't be a bad omen..

'If it takes her this long to read that, maybe it's time to stop skipping lessons... The suspense will kill me before she does!'

Marsh paced in a wide circle. It was already nine-thirty. Usually Apple was up before seven. Two and a half hours is plenty of time to read the letter, in addition to whatever time she had last night. Gee, Apple, why are you so dumb?!'

She leafed through the book that Apple had given her for Christmas, the one written by Test Tube. There was a chapter on getting rid of anxiety, but it only had one paragraph:

"I am anxious about literally everything in my existence. Interacting with people, repaying debts accrued from college, even writing this book... it all gives me massive anxiety. Geebers, I can't give good advice on dealing with your stress because I'm a ball of stress myself. Just... go take a yoga class or something. Or buy some other person's book on dealing with stress. Just don't overdose on pharmaceutical or hallucinogen-based drugs, or you'll regret it."

At nine fifty there was finally a knock at the door. Marsh practically dashed over to it. She pulled it open with a gasp, but it was just Dough. He had a frying pan in hand. "You should, like, come to breakfast before it gets cold."

"...Could you maybe bring mine up? I'm feeling kind of," she fake-coughed, "sick today."

"You living objects are so difficult, you know that?" Dough sighed. Hardly three minutes later he was back with a plate of blueberry pancakes and hard-boiled eggs, though. (Why hard-boiled? Dough, like most gods, worked in mysterious ways.)

Marsh ate in silence, the book open in front of her. When she finished eating, she seriously considered going to check on Apple, but resisted the urge. 'You can't rush an answer.'

It wasn't until three hours after waking up, at nearly ten o'clock, that she heard telltale footsteps coming down the hall. Marsh tensed. Then the door opened. Marsh closed her book and looked up.

Apple was hugging the letter close like a safety blanket.

She shut the door behind her, dead silent as she came closer. Her expression was nervous.

Marsh's heart beat fast. 'Is silence a good thing?!'

"Uhh, Marsh."

'Is nervousness a good thing?!' "H-hey Apple," Marsh said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. It only sort of worked. 'Should I ask her whether she read it? No, it's obvious she did. I-'

"So, I read the letter. I'm so sorry I kept you waiting. I fell asleep in the middle of the first paragraph last night, and when I woke up this morning around eight I kinda forgot about it until after I was drawing for an hour... But you're a good writer, y'know that? Very, what's it called... clear?" Apple sat at the foot of the bed, again without permission. Two pillow-lengths of space existed between them. It felt like two football fields' worth. "Wait a second, that's not the word. Uhh..." She looked to Marsh for advice.