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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
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Noah Kahan
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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@marigoldrush-blog
He takes his lower lip between his teeth as he listens. “Broadway, hm? That sounds fun.” He nods slowly, his attention fully on her. “What were your favorite shows to watch, or you know, perform or whatever?”
Her eyes locked on him softly, the brush of her hair agianst her face became the focus before returning to him. “Spring Awakening,” she explained, nodding. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever loved to be in and watch equally as much.”
He had caught Marigold in some terrible, existential crisis, that much was obvious. Even to Blaise in his drugged state. And even on a good day, he was not the boy to go to with such moods. “Well, I guess I’m glad I meet those very minimal requirements. I suppose that’s something.” Blaise covered her hand with his own as it came up, turning to press his lips to her wrist. “And, I’m find. Really. Not feeling any pain.”
Marigold felt his eyes on her, the head that sat upon her speckled neck started to pound to the beat of her heart. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You don’t like compliments unless they’re about your pants, I get that.” Her lips turned upwards and her eyes danced between her pale hand and his rosed lips. “I suppose we all hate when we’re wrong. Even if we’re wrong about what we hate inside ourselves.”
“So I found a way to pick the lock on the pool who’s in for night swimming?”
“Anything to get out of these dreadful clothes. I’m in, love.”
Oblivious to any signs of nerves with the other girl, Jac just gave a shrug. “I don’t usually sleep, so they don’t matter much to me in the long run. Nice bonus, though! It’s the food that matters the most to me.”
“Oh,” she said, her brows furrowing upwards, “Sleep is great, though.” Her laugh echoed in her head, rather than in the walls surrounding them. “Well, laying down on somewhere nice is also kind of a good thing, yeah?”
“That’s a pretty low bar you’re setting for humanity.” There was a twenty four year-old blonde woman sitting in jail that would back up Blaise’s point if she were there and not, you know, in prison because of him. As much as he tried to make himself forget that fact, being told he wasn’t a psychopath just reminded him of it. But he let the subject drop, because clearly his own self-loathing in regards to his general personality and rapists, wasn’t exactly leaving Marigold in the cheeriest of moods. “Some kid lost it on me. It’s not that bad, I just bruise like a peach. Nothing broken.”
“Low bar, less expectations, no disappointment.” The lie was evident in her voice, the redhead’s shaking vocal cords were ripe with disagreement. A night full of self doubt and anger, and still she lied straight to his face. In every faced situation she had, she lied. Acting spilled over into her, almost as if lying was a way of living, not a job. Her smile disappeared all together, her hand reaching up to touch the side of his face. “I know peaches, but I also know that bleeding like that looks pretty bad. How are you feeling?”
“True. I say we don’t fight and look at puppies.”
“I like the sound of that. What kind of dogs do you like?”
Casper continued drawing, almost like the other girl wasn’t even there. But he did keep up the conversation. “The usual stuff. People, animals, scenery. Just really stuff that comes to mind.” He looks up at her. “What about you? Can you draw or are you gifted in other hobbies?”
His voice melted in the soft flesh on her skull before running through her head. “Oh,” she started, looking down. Her glory days were running through the empty space in her mind, her lips softly upturning. “I was on Broadway from the time I was little to now,” she said, shrugging.
“I’m a foot taller than you. Do you really wanna fight?”
“Yes. I’m tall enough to kick you where it counts.”
“I definitely would.”
“Do you wanna fight, Saw?”
“I mean, we can look at them, but I might fall asleep halfway through. If you drew on me, I’d never talk to you again.”
“Awuh,” she said, pouting, “You wouldn’t.”
Blaise was well aware of the mom-sized hole in him that demanded to be filled with constant attention and adulation from women in his life – he wasn’t totally blind to his inner workings. But something about being told he was compassionate made his stomach churn. “I’m not a good person,” he murmured, his voice drawling a little as the painkillers weighed him down. “I didn’t… my first time was shitty. All of this isn’t about being compassionate, it just sucks.”
Marigold, albeit resisting the urge to reach up and touch the broken nose adorning his face, remained calm. Her nerves settled as she watched him sink with his voice. “Being able to empathize and be kind doesn’t make you kind,” she started, touching his arm. “It makes you capable of being whatever you want to be. Which, is admirable. And, you are a good person. You haven’t killed anyone, and you haven’t been diagnosed a psychopath, so I’ll say you’re a good person in the slightest regard.”
Her eyes danced between his nose and torso, her body weakly adjusting to the chill that ran down her spine. “Empathy, then. Another word for a similar feeling. Okay, enough about shitty times and the people who fucked it all up, what the hell did you do to your nose?”
“As much as I’d love to look at puppies, I think my body will thank me for taking a nap.”
“Not gonna lie,” she started, walking towards the door frame of their last class, “kind of wanted to look at puppies. But, I do have to catch up on some homework so I guess I’ll try to refrain from drawing on you in your sleep.”
“I’ll hate what I want to hate, thank you.” Blaise finally got the package open, though he continued his destructive plastic shredding display, trying to stamp down all of the anger bubbling up. “I don’t know what it is about me that makes people think I’ll bolt the second it’s not sunny. I don’t… why would some assholes treating you bad make me look at you differently?”
“You are more than allowed to hate whatever, just by the fact that you’re alive and human, but you don’t need to. Shit like this could have gone down so much worse, and a lot of it is chalked up to the fact that it was recent and I was 15 and all sorts of shit,” she explained, her hands doing most of her talking for her. She smiled back at him, almost in a sympathetic manner. “Well, the thing about you, and people similar to you, is that you wouldn’t expect anyone to leave when it’s not sunny with a personality like yours. It feels weird to even consider that before it happens. But, it does, and it kind of wrecks people sometimes. So keeping an eye out during shit like this is important.”
Marigold rolled her eyes before chuckling, nodding. “I could see how frustrating that is, but usually everyone expects me to leave when shit gets tough so, I can’t really relate on that regard. I can say that most people find people who have been in sexual situations that were more or less unwanted from either end of that spectrum to be coupable and scared. Given that most people are neither, they adjust. People like you are too good to be true in the regard that you’re stunning in all fields. The idea that you would be compassionate is kind of a stretch. But, you’re right. I shouldn’t assume that based on past experiences but I would much rather have offended you than wind up in a mess because you might not turn out the way I thought you up in my head.
“It’s about time. All I want is a comfortable bed.”
Grabbing his arm , Marigold nodded and sighed. “free period is next. Wanna find a couch and nap? Or we could look at puppies.”
“I’m operating on thirty minutes of sleep. I feel like I’m dying.”
“I’m here now. You can tell me your other two wishes while we find you some caffeine.”
“I hate shitty excuses, too,” he breathed, leaning against the glass and tearing off bits of the orange wrapper in his hands. Blaise rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear his head for a moment and get the sound of her stuttering out of his mind. That was disorienting. “I didn’t mean to make you… frazzled. I’m just sorry that sex can be shitty like that.”
“Is it yours to hate?” she asked, looking at him. “I hate hearing their words every night, and I hate knowing I have severely fucked up myself because of instances like it, but I keep this locked down so that you don’t get to hate it. Because one more moment you spend your life hating, the less you have to start feeling.” Her hands started to play with blue plastic. “I trust you enough to tell you, and that’s usually where it goes all wrong and I’m sure you’re not interested in anything long lasting so, I guess this is me telling you it all. Because I won’t be so surprised when you look at me differently, I suppose. Sex is great, by the way. It hasn’t changed my opinion on that.”
Blaise watched the visible stages of being uncomfortable overcome her, saw each jerky tic and listened as she rambled on to clarify herself better. This whole… topic left a burning storm roiling around in his stomach, but he tried not to let it manifest to visibly, even if Marigold was going for a guise of calmness. “I hate…” Blaise, in his altered state, had no idea how to verbalize his thoughts on the matter, on this subject he brought up. “I hate shit like that, though. The grey area stuff. It shouldn’t be grey. I hate grey guys,” he finished, halfway attempting at a joke.
The entire reaction he began to give left Marigold nervous. She had told other lovers about the instances they or other people had done and they ended up either breaking up with her or finding some new kind of self and leaving anyway. She took a deep breath before nodding, feeling the burning in the back of her throat. “I-I mean,” she started, not knowing where to go. “It’s a really strange situation. The way I told the story has a lot more to it. Each person was different. I don’t mean-mean to defend them but...It’s..” she shrugged again. It felt like she was taking slow breaths and then stopping the catch her breath. “Everyone was drunk. People make bad choices drunk.”
