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Boy Toy

miserable.

“No, I’m not Nathan, you dumbass. It’s Mattie, the one who brought you here? The one that was supposed to take you home and didn’t? Yeah, that Mattie.”

Mattie’s grabbing at Marshall’s shirt and tugging and trying to get him to stand, but Marshall just kind of can’t. His head hurts, he’s dizzy, he can’t fucking see straight, and the nothing that is left in his stomach is rushing out of his mouth at one hundred and fifteen miles per hour.

Mattie jumps back in a surprised manner and curses fly out of his mouth just as quickly as the vomit flooding out of Marshall’s. Marshall holds his stomach weakly and bends slowly back into a standing position, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles as he squints against the harsh light. Matt takes the sunglasses off his own face and places them carefully on Marshall’s, reaching out to grab the hand off his stomach and gently lead him to the small car running by the road.

“What am I going to do with you, Mar, you’re a mess. I can’t take you home; you’re probably fucking grounded, your mom is going to put one of her combat boots through my front teeth. Goddammit, Marshall! Why’d you run off last night?!”

Marshall concentrates on walking in a straight line, focusing on not falling as he opens his mouth to answer Matt’s question.

“I couldn’t breathe. I miss Nathan.”

Eventually, Matt gets Marshall in the car, and strapped tightly into the front seat. Marshall’s head is thrown back on the headrest and he groans, trying to keep control of his weak stomach.

“We’ll get you some food, then you can have some Advil, then we’ll pump you so full of coffee that your hangover will just disappear,” Mattie is talking quietly, almost whispering to himself so Marshall finds no need to respond.

“I miss my Nathan,” he says again, quieter this time.

“Nathan was a prick. Can I tell you a secret, Marshall?”

Marshall feels Matt’s eyes on the side of his face but can’t work up the energy to turn his face.
“If you’re going to tell me that he cheated on me, I already know. I fucking found out.”

Matt’s hands twitch as he tries to refrain from fiddling with the radio, something to fill the eerie quiet between the two. He wants to tell Marshall, but goddamn, the boy’s already broken in half. Is there absolutely any need to add on to that?

Yeah, Matt decides, there kind of is. Not to hurt Marshall, though, because Marshall is definitely hurt enough, but to hopefully provide closure, because if there’s anything Marshall needs, it’s closure.

“Did he tell you how many times?” Matt’s voice is quiet again because as much as he doesn’t want to be speaking the words, he has to.

“He didn’t tell me anything. I found out... How many times?”

Marshall’s head feels like it’s imploding, and not because of the alcohol. His heart’s pounding and he can’t breath again, because holy fuck, he thought Nathan loved him.

Mattie is quiet in the driver’s seat and his right hand is bouncing in his lap and he realizes he just should of stayed quiet. No, he shouldn’t have. Okay, Mattie is terribly indecisive and really doesn’t know, but he has to say something, now that he opened his fatass mouth.

“I-I don’t have an exact number, Mar. But it’s a lot. Multiple times with multiple people. Every… every time you two weren’t together, he was with someone else.”

Marshall feels like crying and screaming and punching everything in his sight, including Matt, who could’ve saved Marshall every bit of pain he’d experienced through the whole thing. But he doesn’t, of course, because Marshall doesn’t get mad at people because Marshall is a good boy who does what everyone expects him to.
So he simply mumbles a simple, “Oh,” and lets his eyes droop shut again. He’s quiet for a long time, drifting in and out of Dreamland, and Matt is about ready to scream, just to break the tension filled silence.

Marshall didn’t realize how far the club they’d been to was, but as twenty minutes passes, then twenty-five, Marshall starts to feel like he can’t stay locked in the goddamn tiny car for any fucking longer, with one of the people he thought he could trust to always be honest with him.

“Just drop me off at home, a block or two away. I’ll walk and try and sneak in. If I get caught, I won’t mention your name,” Marshall says, his voice quiet and calm, but still forced. Matt opens his mouth to protest but doesn’t get a full syllable out before Marshall tells him to shut up and just fucking do it. Matt’s never heard Marshall sound so in control, or angry in the entire fifteen years that he’s known the kid, so he just nods in agreement and lets the silence overtake them again. Matt didn’t want the brown-haired boy to be mad at him, he just wanted him to know about Nathan‘s infidelity, to help him get over the cheater.

He didn’t expect Marshall to get mad, but that’s only because Marshall never gets mad. Well, Marshall didn’t used to get mad, but things have changed, Matt realizes.

Fucking finally, the rust-bucket pulls up a half a block from Marshall’s house and as Marshall ungracefully climbs out of the seat, Matt leans over and puts a hand on his best friend’s arm.

“Look, Mar, don’t be mad, I should’ve told you earlier, it’s just-”

“Whatever, Matt. It’s cool, just go.”

There’s a hard glint in Marshall’s honey colored eyes, one that Matt hasn’t seen before and Matt doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

So he just nods, sadly, and drives away in the opposite direction after mumbling a low, almost inaudible, “I’m sorry.”

Marshall stands in the road, watching the fading taillights disappear down the cul-de-sac lane before harshly rubbing a hand over his face and whispering an “I’m sorry, too” to himself before turning and starting on his short trek home.

It’s as the wind starts to blow and a few lone leaves swirl around him that Marshall lets the tears he’s been holding back for so long fall down his miserable face.
♠ ♠ ♠
no update until twenty comments, yo'.
one more than i usually get.
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please?
xo.