You had patched Marshall up the best you could, neither of the two of you saying a word to each other as you did. You could tell his mind was racing, but you knew better than to ask what about. You could tell by the way he winced underneath your touch and shifted uncomfortably that a hospital would have been a better option, but again you knew better than to suggest that.
Now, the two of you were waiting in an unfamiliar hallway. The air smelled faintly of lavender and the other flowers that sat decorated. You weren't sure what you had been expecting when Marshall had gotten the address from, but it definitely wasn't this. You kept your comments to yourself though as you followed after him, remembering what you and B- rabbit talked about in the car. There were two people dressed in black standing guard of a glass door. The door was impossible to see through, and you wondered if it was the same on the other side. As you looked down at your shoes, Marshall kept his gaze up. A woman sat at the front desk, her nose buried in her laptop as she furiously typed away.
"Can I help.." the woman started, but stopped, her voice slowly trailing off as she finally caught wind of Marshall's face. Despite your best efforts, his cheeks were still heavily bruised, and his nose seemed to match the same color.
"I'm looking for Randle." Marshall said simply. "Tell him it's B-rabbit."
The lady paused the typing from her computer and briefly looked up, her eyes scanning both Marshall and you.
"Whose here to see Randle. You?" She asked, her voice skeptically as she studied both you and Marshall. You looked down at yourself, realizing now that you hadn't bothered to wash the blood off of your clothes. You'd just barely managed to wipe most of the blood off of your face, but you knew that there were still places you'd missed.
You glanced at Marshall, unsurprised to see the look of annoyance that filled his face. "Is it your job to bitch at people or direct them towards where they asked?" He shot back, sliding a card across the table. You studied it for a brief second, noticing that fingerprints of blood had been stained on the white sheet. The woman tilted her glasses as if it would help her see better, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
"Just one moment." She said, giving the both of you one more look before she disappeared into a back room. The moment she left the area, Marshall allowed his eyes to wander and fully take in the scope of the room.
"The air smells... weird.." you murmured.
"That's just weed." Marshall grunted, his voice distracted as his eyes landed on a picture that stood over a few fake plants.
"Do you think.." you started, and Marshall nodded.
"Yeah, that's him. I'm sure of it. Who the hell else would have a forty by sixty photo sitting in this joint." He walked away from the plant, swaying on his feet lightly as he moved. Despite keeping a straight face, you could tell he was in another world of pain. You thought back to the beating, gritting your teeth slightly as the sounds from it rang through your mind.
"You should sit down.." you found yourself saying, watching as he placed a hand on the wall besides him to steady himself.
" 'N risk staining their perfect white couch? I'll take my chances standing." He questioned. He paused for a second, as though he were mulling over his own words. Before you knew it, a devious grin had had spread across his face.
"Y-you know what? You might me right. These are white and-" you started to backpedal, but stopped as the door swung open. Clouds of smoke evacuated the private office and quickly filled the lobby. Your nose twitched with irritation, but you refused to plug it and looked like a prude. You were beginning to learn how to control your somewhat judgmental mannerisms, but at times like this you found it difficult.
You gaped at the man as he exited his office. He had to crouch in order to avoid hitting his head in the doorway.
"Look at the size of him- are you sure we're in the right place?" you whispered to Marshall, looking up at catching his gaze. He tilted his head at you, giving you an honest shrug and you felt yourself face palm.
"What?" He asked. "You're the one who took directions from someone who was almost knocked the fuck out."
Fair point.
"Well maybe you would've given me better directions if you'd of just taken the pain medication I tried to give you." You argued back, your annoyance finally boiling over. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to face him. You weren't surprised to find that he had done the same, the look of annoyance on his face seemed to mirror your own. You hated arguing with him.
But you also hated seeing him in pain. You didn't understand why he acted the way that he did in certain situations. You didn't even know how to begin to get him to talk about it. Whenever you poked at anything that you didn't quite understand, he would blow up, and in turn so did you.
"I don't take fucking pills. Pain meds or not." He snapped harshly. "Why is it pissing you off so much anyways? I'm fine."
"But you're not. Saying you're fine and actually being fine are two completely different things. A-and I hate it when you ask me why I care." You hissed back. "Because you already know the answer to that. I don't like seeing you in pain."
"Are the two of you finished with your little.. lovers quarrel?" A booming voice from the corner spoke. You jumped slightly, and you felt Marshall stiffen besides you. The both of you had completely forgotten where you are in the heat of the rising argument. In complete sync, the both of you turned to face Randle and his assistant. You wanted to apologize, but as you felt the heat rising on your face you found that the words were stuck in your throat.
"My bad." Marshall said, sensing your discomfort as he filled in the silence. "Guess we forgot where we were for a second."
Randle laughed, his voice heavy and thick with the vapor or smoke. "Don't sweat it kid. It's the smoke. It messes with everyone's heads I hear. Take's some getting used to. Come in, come in."
With that, the two of you shared one last look before starting into Randle's office. However, before you could get inside you felt the assistant block your way.
"Randle's office is of.. private nature." She said. The change in her voice was so apparent it made you freeze in your spot.
"What do you mean?" You asked, choosing to play stupid.
"What I mean is, this is a meeting between your boyfriend and Randle only. You're not welcomed. If you want, you can sit in the lobby and wait for-"
"Nah." Marshall cut in. You then realized that he hadn't moved from his spot behind the doorway. Randle had already sat down. He looked as though he were waiting for Marshall to do the same.
Yet he stood there, glowering at the assistant with a defiant stare. "She goes where I go. I don't play that shit." He said, reaching around the assistant and grabbing your arm. "You think I'm as clueless as the other south side rappers you bring in here?" He asked as he pulled you closer. "I know what goes on in these lobbies when you think people aren't watching. She stays with me."
You looked up at Marshall, surprised at the sudden change in the air. From minutes the environment had gone from hostile, to calm and then hostile once again. However, this time you were glad it was the two of you versus them.
The silence in the air was deafening as the four of you waited for each other's next move. You wondered how Marshall could keep his calm the way he did. Despite looking as though he were ready to fall over, he never seemed to let anyone intimidate him.
Randle's raspy coated laugh filled the air, breaking the silence and causing you to relax ever so slightly. "Don't be an ass, Judith." He scolded her. "It's his meeting too. If he wants the lady to come, the lady can come." He said, his gaze dissecting you as the two of you entered. It was as though he were truly taking in how you looked for the first time. Both you and Marshall sat down, and you found yourself slowly averting your gaze to the folded hands in your lap.
"What happened to the two of you? That face of yours looks like it'll take a while to heal." Randle said, lighting up what looked like a joint.
"Doesn't matter." Marshall answered blandly. He pulled out the white card again and slid it across the table. "You were at one of my battles the other night. Or, a protege of yours anyways."
You noticed that Marshall had completely changed his tone. He spoke in a low voice, his words smooth and calculated. If it wasn't for the state of his battered body, the shock of his professionalism would have been greater.
"Mhm, that is my card. I wasn't there in person, but I had a buddy of mine send me that battle, and a few others as well." He said, raising his eyebrow at Marshall. "You're pretty good kid. Dare I say, one of the best that battle rap has to offer. Which is why I made my offer."
You gritted your teeth, you could feel the tension rising in the air again as you remembered what was coming.
"Yeah." Marshall said. "That offer." You snuck a glance at him, unsurprised to find him meeting the man with full eye contact. "I appreciate it an' all, but I can't accept your offer."
Randle paused for a moment, his entire body stiffening at the prospect of rejection. "Excuse me?" He questioned.
"I can't accept your offer. So.. no more sending guys down to my trailer an' trying to get me to sign stuff. Aight? I can't.."
Randle took a long puff from his joint, staying silent as he pondered over Marshall's words. "I see." He stated. "That's too bad. May I ask why?"
"What do you mean why? I don't want to be on television. Not for some heavily edited, reality tv show. You know who eats that shit up? Mindless people who'd never be able to comprehend what I have to say anyways, so why bother?" He asked.
"So it has nothing to do with you getting the absolute shit beat out of you?" Randle asked. Marshall immediately looked away, and you frowned.
"Doesn't matter. I still meant what I said. Reality tv isn't for me."
"Have you even looked over what we've sent? This isn't in the category of reality television. It's actually in the category of news and documentaries." He explained. "Yes, there is incentive and reward at the end, however that has more to do with the record companies themselves reaching out to us. You win, you get a contract. Meanwhile you build a fan base by the people who watch you. Come on, do you truly think that people who don't like rap would watch a show about rap?"
Marshall stayed silent.
"How about you just think about it a little more? I can tell you're still on the fence about it. Do you want to stay in this podunk town forever? Working in.. God knows where and getting jumped every other week? How about this." He stopped, pulling out a sheet of paper and writing something down. "This has my personal number and email. If you change your mind, give me a ring and I'll-"
You watched as Marshall took the paper from the man, and swiftly tore it in half. He let the two pieces of paper float to the ground. You finally looked up, unsurprised to see the look of shock and anger on Randle's face.
"I already said no." He finished, his voice just as bland as he had started. It was clear he had dug his heels in about this decision.
What happened next was so fast, you had no time to prepare for it.
Randle grabbed Marshall's shirt, pulling him forward abruptly and swinging his fist into the right side of Marshall's cheek. You didn't fully comprehend what was happening until Randle shoved Marshall against the wall. You flinched at the sound of his head hitting the wall.
"Are you stupid kid? Do you know who I am? I'm giving you an opportunity and you're choosing to spit in my face like this?" He asked, pulling him off the wall and slamming him against it once more. You could feel yourself starting to move before you even knew what to do. Marshall coughed thickly, shoving Randle off of him and into his desk. You stood next to Marshall, just barely managing to grab him as he moved unsteadily on his feet.
"The fuck's the matter with you?" You screamed, your voice burning from the second hand smoke. "You act as if you've never been told no a day in your life! It's pathetic."
"I haven't been told no. Not from scum like him." Randle said, sitting at his desk.
"I wouldn't take opinions seriously from someone who beats up their clients." You snapped, holding onto Marshall to steady him once more as you stared at the door. "Come on, let's just get out of here. I don't- I don't like it anymore. I probably never did. And you need to lay down.."
You expected him to fight you on this. You could tell that he was seething himself. You knew that he wanted nothing more than to jump over Randle's desk and make him choke on his joint, but he restrained. Instead he nodded, leaning against you slightly as the two of you started for the door.
"One more thing." Marshall sighed, reaching into his pocket and tossing a card at Randle.
Randle studied it for a moment before scoffing. "The hell am I supposed to do with this?"
"How the fuck am I supposed to know? That's your job ain't it? If you're really looking' for someone to replace me for your show, then give him a call. He's desperate enough to accept your offer."
Randle studied the card, flipped it over before taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. "I think I understand what's happening here." He said. "Yeah, I've heard about this kid. His parents own the central mall down on North park right?"
"I don't know what he owns, and I don't care. Let's go." Marshall said, nodding towards you gently.
"Wait." Randle said. "This kid, is he threatening you?"
Marshall paused, his shoulders stiffening at Randle's words.
"So he is."
"Not me."
"Someone you care about?" He questioned.
You watched the stubbornness slowly leave Marshall's bruised face. He nodded stiffly, staring ahead. You knew he couldn't turn around to face Randle now that the act was up. You felt your heart sink. You knew that deep down, Marshall had wanted the opportunity.
Yet he was ready to throw it away if it meant that you wouldn't have to endure any future issues.
"I see." The man said, rubbing his chin for a moment. "Alright, how about this. My offer will still extend to you."
"Look man, I already said that I can't-"
"But, I'll also extend it to this.. Claris dude. I'll be honest, I've heard him at other battles and his lyrics aren't up there. However, we could use a comedic aspect for the show. Claris would fit nicely."
You could almost feel yourself wanting to snicker at the butchered name. You hoped that it wouldn't be corrected anytime soon.
"Both of us?" Marshall questioned, finally turning around to face you.
"Yes the both of you. And until then, try not to have any contact with him. Don't let him know that you're also going to be apart of this. The shock and surprise will come if the two of you are given the opportunity to face off again during filming."
Marshall thought about this for a moment, looking down at you as if silently asking what he should do. You briefly let go of Marshall, walking to where he'd torn up the paper and neatly folding it into your purse.
"Randle, can you give him a bit of time to think?" You asked. "He was already hurt before he got here, and you slamming him into the wall didn't make it any better-" you found your voice getting angrier towards the end and you cleared your throat. "He needs to rest before he can give you a proper answer. I mean, knowing Marshall if he says yes now, he might do a complete 180 tomorrow."
"Alright." Randle accepted this, appeased that you had taken his contact information with you.
You walked back to Marshall, allowing him to wrap his arm around your shoulder as you steadied his waist.
"Thanks." He murmured to you. "What would I do without you, y/n." He half joked.
"Probably be put through floors in addition to walls.." you joked back, nudging him gently. The assistant lady seemed to have a satisfied look to her face as the two of you walked out looking more disheveled than when you entered. Marshall didn't seem to notice nor care, you could tell he just wanted to get back. You didn't let that stop you from flipping the woman off as the two of you exited the smoke filled building and entered the fresh night air.
As soon as you both were away from prying eyes, Marshall coughed. He bent over slightly, his grasp losing yours as he wrapped an arm around his torso.
"Shit, Marshall.." you started.
"Don't y/n-" he practically begged as he held up a hand, "I'm fine, really."
Even under the dim moonlight, you could see how pale he looked. "So.. I'm guessing that a hospital is out of the question?"
He shot you a look, and you sighed. "Alright, okay, no hospital. But I'm checking to see if anything's broken once we get back."
Marshall rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue.
Yep you thought to yourself. Something is definitely broken.
*TIME GAP*
"For fuck sake y/n, why are you walking as if you just grew a pair for the first time?" Marshall groaned out.
"Me? That's you! You can hardly walk straight. You're pulling me down with you." You pointed out, placing a hand on his chest and gripping onto his arm tighter to once again steady him. "Jeez, tell me why it's harder getting you inside like this then when you're drunk?"
"Being drunk doesn't feel like you've been hit by a damn bus.." Marshall winced, and you looked up at him.
"Yeah, you're probably right." You answered, your voice ten times quieter as you tried to have more patience with getting him inside. He looked back at you as the two of you finally reached the door. It wasn't until he was finally situated on the couch though that he spoke.
"What's that look for?" He questioned.
"You're asking me?" You answered glumly. "I could ask you that same question a hundred times.. and never get an answer."
Marshall looked away for a moment as he thought about this. You could tell that he knew you were right, but he would of course never admit this.
"If I hadn't been so upset about what happened with Clarence. If I didn't agree to egg his stupid house.. none of this would be happening."
Marshall stared at you incredulously.
"Can you stop?" You questioned, raising the nearest pillow above your head threateningly before stopping, realizing that would actually hurt if you were to hit him with it. "You're looking at me as if I'm some sort of alien."
"You might as well be sometimes." Marshall answered. "There's things I don't understand about you. Lots of things, actually." He winced as he tried to sit up.
"No, no.." you said, placing your hand against his chest and slowly lowering him back down. "You need to lay down. Try not to move around too much. At least until after I've checked." You said.
"Like back there, when we were with Randle. You were so scared I kept checking to make sure you hadn't passed out yet." Marshall said, earning him the lightest shove you could muster. "But you still screamed at him and shit towards the end. Granted I could hardly hear what you were sayin', my ears were ringing. But I could feel you shaking an' shit when you did it. But.. you still did it."
You looked down at Marshall, now it was your turn to be confused. He winced again, this time closing his eyes as he tried to focus on something else.
You reached down and held on to the bottom of his shirt. "Would it help to take this off?" You questioned. He nodded, barely hesitating as he worked to help you slip it off.
"I really wish you'd of let me bandage these better before we left. We didn't have to hurry, you know." You told him softly.
"I know." He answered.
"So.. why..?"
"You told me.. a while back that you don't like being in unfamiliar places when it gets too dark. So.." his voice trailed quietly. You felt yourself pause, your heart skipping a beat as you listened.
"I'm going to take these off now." You said, referring to the shotty bandage work. Marshall nodded, relaxing slightly once his shirt was off. "I know that I did say that at some point. But.. I didn't think you were listening." You admitted.
"I try to." He admitted.
You smiled warmly at his comment, shaking your head at him. "Seriously.. don't put yourself at risk for me. We could've taken some time to make sure you were alright first. Besides.. I don't think I'm as fearful about that anymore. I mean.. all the unfamiliar places that I have been to, it's been with you." You admitted. "I can't really imagine feeling any safer."
Your face warmed at the words slightly, and you found yourself continuing. "You know what I think?"
Marshall hummed.
"I think it's difficult.. for you sometimes, to wrap your head around acts of kindness. Why.. someone would want to do it, why there isn't an underhanded motive. I think.. that it's hard for you to accept that good people do exist. And that.. you're one of them as well."
Marshall didn't say anything, keeping his eyes closed as you worked to slowly unravel the bandages from his torso. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he bit back his pain.
"It's almost over.." you soothed.
"Sometimes.." Marshall started, hesitating a bit as he spoke. You knew that at moments like this, it was better to stay quiet. He rarely brought his own opinions to the table when it came to things like this. When he did, he would just as quickly shut up as he had started. "Sometimes I can hear what she has to say playing in the back of my mind. She's always made me feel as though you had to earn things like kindness. I don't know."
"Who?" You asked, finishing up by taking off the last of the bandage.
"My mother." He finally admitted. "Now that I'm older, that shit doesn't weigh on me the way that it used to. At least, I think that it doesn't. But sometimes it still feels as though.. she's engraved into the things I do on a daily. I.. question everyone's moves, all the time. My coworkers, my friends.. because I can't wrap my head around why, sometimes. You know?"
"Yeah, I understand." You said, reaching for new gauze. "You know.. just because you're older now, doesn't mean that all that hurt goes away. Or that you suddenly become amazing at managing it." You said. "The questioning.. is that why you refuse things so often? I mean.. I could offer you a snack if you were starving in the middle of the desert, and your first reaction would still be to say no."
Marshall looked away for a moment, shrugging ever so slightly. "Think so." He admitted tiredly. "I don't.. I don't know."
"And that's okay." You told him. "You don't.. necessarily always have to know either. Just talking about it is a good start."
Marshall said nothing, watching you work with the gauze and shifting whenever you needed him to.
"It's.. not like that with you though." He finally spoke as you finished the final wrapping. "I'm trying to think about a time where it was, but I can't."
His voice was raspy with tiredness and pain, but his eyes seemed to be awake as he watched you. You sat besides him, resting your back against the chair. "What do you mean? You question why I'm doing stuff all. The. Time." You teased.
"Mhm, but when I do it's usually because you asked me something first."
"What do you mean?" You repeated.
"Fuck, y/n-" he laughed quietly, "you sound like a broken record. Fine, I'll give you an example. Why didn't you take the pills? Why do you even care? Why'd you get drunk off your ass last night? Why do you want to know? Do you.. see what I'm saying?"
"I think so." You pointed out. "Although to me, it sounds as if those questions are deflections."
Marshall looked away once more. "What are you a psychologist? Anyways, my point is.. I don't ever, actually question your kindness. Not in my head, anyways. I mean, you broke into my house to help me out the very first day I met you. No.. I don't question it, I'm just.. I'm grateful for it." He said, finally looking back up at you and nodding.
"It.. feels really nice to hear you say that." You told him. "Sometimes it feels as if I might be.. I don't know. We come from different places, and sometimes I feel like I say things that I probably shouldn't." You laughed awkwardly, though the feeling ebbed away as you noticed his overly eager nodding in agreement. "I don't want to push you, and sometimes it feels like that's exactly what I'm doing."
"You're the only one who does it, though." He admitted to you quietly. " 'N yeah, sometimes it's pretty damn annoying. But.. your voice is the one that I hear in contrast.. when I hear her's telling me I'm worthless.. or stupid, or whatever else she used to hurl out." He said with a brief eye roll. "It doesn't annoy me as much as you think."
You could feel cascades of relief washing down on you, but you were careful not to let it show on your face. You looked towards the clock, your brows raising as you realized just how late it was.
"Jeez, I lost track of time. Sorry I've just been going on and on haven't I?" You yawned, standing up. "I'll see you in-"
You felt Marshall grab your wrist, stopping you mid step as you had started for the stairs. You turned back around to face him, surprised at the sudden movement. "Stay?" He mumbled halfway into the pillow, "I don't mind the talking. It's nice, actually."
You briefly hesitated, unsure of what he meant by Stay as you slowly sat back down. Even in the dark you could feel Marshall shooting you a look of disbelief. Without another word, he reached over to grab you. Sitting up with you, he wrapped his arms around your upper torso, pulling your closer to his chest.
You gasped at the suddenness, but didn't dare move. You felt your face erupting into flames, and you were glad he was unable to see you. "M-Marshall, doesn't this hurt?" You questioned. You felt him place his chin against the top of your head as he slowly shook it no.
" 'm fine. Better than fine." He answered, and that was perfect enough for you. You could feel his hand gently gliding through your hair and you closed your eyes at the feeling.
"Do you know what you're gonna do yet?" You found yourself asking.
"About what?"
"Randle."
"Mm. No, and to be honest it's hard to give a fuck after he punched me." He answered blandly.
"You know that's not true.." you told him, and his silence was enough to confirm for you. "This could be your chance, you know?"
"My chance to do what? I have too many responsibilities here.. realistic ones. I can't just.." his voice trailed.
"But really.. you can." You told him. "You can make it happen.. if you really want it to. And you would be amazing."
"Maybe.." he murmured against your hair, his voice trailing with sleep. "Can we talk about this tomorrow? It gives me a fucking headache."
"Of course." You told said, looking up at him. You watched as he reached over to turn off the only lamp that illuminated the corner with light. The two of you were finally bathed in complete darkness.
"Night, y/n." You felt him murmur, his grip against you slightly tightening as he brought you closer towards him. You rested against his chest, reveling in the warmth it brought.
"Goodnight Marshall."