Boy Toy

When Marshall manages to slip inside his house through the rarely unlocked backdoor a full thirty seconds before his mom’s Focus arrives in the driveway, he decides that somewhere, there is a god who has taken the boy under his wing. He flies into the living room, grabs the remote and flops down on the couch on his stomach, then pretends to be asleep when he hears the keys in the front door twist to open the lock.

When he hears her disappear into the kitchen, he lets out a deep breath of relief and nuzzles his head deeper into the cushions of the couch. And he ends up falling asleep to the sound of Spongebob squeaking and squawking loudly about something retarded.

His dreams are filled with that face of that boy that he doesn’t even know, of course they fucking are. Those green eyes are everywhere he looks, that midnight dark hair is always in his head, and those brilliantly crafted tattoos litter his mind constantly.

When Marshall flies off the couch at 3:19 in the morning, he finds himself still in the living room with a soft blanket that is now wrapped around his neck and on his hands and he starts flailing around, freaking the fuck out. After he stops and catches his breath, he gingerly unwraps the blanket and then he starts to feel like a fucking douchebag.

He just got his goddamn heart ripped from his chest, right? Why is he already, a mere week after he was too miserable to get off his goddamn bedroom floor, thinking about another person? He wishes he was the kind of idiot who just stopped trusting people after he got his heartbroken because let’s face it; it would be so much easier.

He doesn’t want to be thinking about Nathan, he doesn’t want to be thinking about Sebastian, he doesn’t want to be thinking, period. Marshall’s head hurts too bad to think and he’s pretty sure his brain is shrinking from all the thinking that he’s already been doing.

But then, Sebastian is in his hurting head again, and he’s debating over whether or not to go back to Steinhouse tomorrow. He wants to see the ever-amazing boy again and hear about his life story because Marshall had talked the entire fucking four hours earlier, but he doesn’t even want to think about him romantically. And he will end up thinking about him romantically and sexually and every other fucking way that he shouldn’t be, he knows this and he just doesn’t want to.

But… on the other hand, he just really wants to see him.

And then, it’s decided. Just like that, in the middle of the living room floor, in the complete darkness at 3:23 in the morning, with his fleece blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
He’s through being a girl; he’s giving up on Nathan. Nathan was a douchebag and nothing Marshall can do will stop that. Not his crying, weeping, whining, or wishing, so he’s done.

He’s done with Nathan; he doesn’t give a shit anymore because he is over it.

Finally, he is. And he knows he is. There will be no relapse, even if Nathan comes back begging, he will not take that chance again. He’s through with that boy.

He doesn’t know about Sebastian, nor does he want to think about the gorgeous boy. He’s just immensely proud of himself for getting over Nathan alfuckingready.

He tosses the fleece blanket over his shoulders and with a small smile playing on his thin lips, he wanders down the long hallway to his room.

~

He’s awake bright and early at 12:34 the next day and he decides right then, as he rolls out of bed with a groan, that Tuesdays are a fucking bitch. He hates Tuesdays, he really does.
He strips out of the jeans he fell asleep in and slips on a new pair and then throws himself back on the bed, face smashed into the still sleep-warm pillows.

To see Sebastian when he promised he would, or not to see Sebastian, that’s the question.

And within five minutes, he’s putting his worn-out Vans on, sliding into his warm coat, grabbing his hat and then he’s out the door.

Sebastian’s head is down on the counter because he doesn’t think that Marshall is going to show up and just as he starts to beat his forehead against the table, the door flies open.

With a cold gust of wind and an audible shiver, there’s Marshall. His cheeks are red from the wind and with his cute little stocking cap and earflaps, Sebastian mutters an “Aw!” before scampering over to the wide-eyed boy.

He grins once and just waits for Marshall to unzip and shake out of his coat. The two take their seats, same as the day before, just across the room from Agnes.

Marshall is quiet, awkward and thinking, letting his eyes trace over every visible part of Sebastian. “Your turn,” he says simply, his tone timid. He knows he should probably elaborate, but he likes the comfortable silence, the whirling of the coffee machines, the whistling coming from the back of the shop, which is quiet and soothing, and good ole Agnes’ breathing, wheezy and calming.

But Sebastian understands and starts talking, quietly as if he were enjoying the calm quiet, too.

“Sebastian Rowe Bunker, born April 8th, 1992,” and he starts going on about his whole life story, his first pet, his little sister, his older cousin that lived with them for two years and used to put worms in his hair, and then he just stops.

“Wait. What kind of story am I going for here? Something like Nathan?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and a slightly confused but massively adorable look gracing his face.

“Just keep talking,” Marshall says, letting his head fall into his arms. The deep warmth that Sebastian’s voice seems to emit is far more calming than any eighty year old’s breathing could ever be, he decides.

Sebastian talks about absolutely everything, his fourth grade field trip to his The Birds and the Bees talk with his mom’s old boyfriend to his ninth grade girlfriend. Marshall is immersed in all of this pointless talk, though, and he doesn’t want it to end. But then it’s 12:30 and the lunch rush is back and Marshall becomes immersed in that, instead.

Watching the same people from yesterday file in, ordering the same thing as yesterday, then leaving with their orders, same as yesterday.

He wonders how long they’ve been coming to the quaint café, how long their lives have been that exact same routine. His honey eyes are wide as he watches the mundane ordering and the lively Sebastian bounce back and forth from counter to table to soda machine until the bell rings for the last time and they’re left completely alone again.

They have too much in common, they decide after another hour and a half of talking aimlessly. From music to food to shit to do, everything.

Marshall being Marshall though, loses track of time, again, has to flee home again, and barely beats his mom’s beat up SUV home again.

And as he slides into his room forty-five seconds before the sliding door opens and his mom’s shout echoes through the still house, Marshall decides that he needs to quit seeing Sebastian.