T // WC: 1.8k // bodyswap shenanigans begin, and Marvin is beyond stressed and then some. what ever will happen to date week now that this has happened?? // masterlist // series masterlist
Marvin had his head down and strained against his fists as his elbows rest on his knees.
He was doubled over, praying quietly beside you in Hughie's body, and for peace of mind.
He’d settle for just enough of it to be able to think of a plan to fix this or to keep him from killing someone else in the room.
His mind, against his will, not unusual since the death of his family, would carousel through the worst possibilities, every worst case imaginable. They pop in his head, and ruminate, refusing to leave.
When he was a kid, if he checked the burners three times a night, they’d go away. That was the action his brain pushed him to do to keep the bad thing from happening or getting worse, but right now there wasn’t any.
Just bad thoughts in a bad situation, and neither showed no sign of ending.
“You a'right there, mate?” Butcher asked as flippantly as he could pretend, but the glint his eyes revealed his concern.
He was stared at his hands and watched as Marvin balled them tight. He must have started tapping his fingers, but as always, he preferred not to talk about it.
You stirred, a whine coming from your lips— Hughie’s lips.
It was almost Deja vu. Marvin remembers Hughie sleeping similarly when Butcher first brought him here, making similar noises and faces in his sleep, but he knew you better.
Hell, he even knew Hughie Mitchell better these days as well.
The eyebrows furrowed much closer, his face more tight and expressive in your mournful sleep in his body.
Somehow Hughie, when he was actually in his own body, sounded girlier compared to you.
“Swapper'll wake up, and they'll be back in their own bodies in no time.” Butcher graveled in a poor attempt to comfort him.
Marvin glared at him but didn’t say anything.
“What are we … what are we telling Grace?” Wrong. Everything about you looked wrong with Hughie in your skin.
He slouched, making Marvin notice that you held yourself high at all times.
Hughie had your shoulders slumped. He had you shifting your body side to side and making very unsure expressions on your face. Timidness and being uncomfortable in your skin, uncomfortable being you— was unlike you.
You had your troubles, your own insecurities, but you didn’t show them. Not with your body language, not completely. At least not from what he’s seen and how he’s come to know you. To a normal person they remain hidden and unknown, but with Marvin's line of work and the skill he picked up from being in the military to now, He noticed. He could see you for you.
You fidgeted with your hands a little when you were nervous, but other than that, you held yourself together fairly well. You took pride in your appearance.
When you got your hair, nails, or anything done, your head raised a little bit higher, everything about you even more surer, but As Marvin studied the new braids you had gotten done, the stray curls that fell from the updo you had chosen for their date, the small insecure looking woman before him filled him with dread— Anger.
“One of you better figure out what I can tell her,” he leaned back, looking nonchalant but as usual around these fools, he couldn’t be more pissed, “maybe we can buy some time until this motherfucker wakes up.”
You rub the face in the mirror with a hand.
There was a little bathroom at the office, and you’ve been in here for perhaps three hours now. You aren’t sure.
No matter how hard you try the tears won’t stop. Despite how tired you are of crying, the tears keep falling.
Someone keeps pounding at the door, but not saying anything, and you ignore it.
“Kimiko, leave her the fuck alone!” you hear Marvin call out.
“Zhe is not zee only one who can use zee bathroom! If it was anyone else you would have gone bzerk by now! Tell her to let Kimiko in, huh?!”
You open a door with void expression. The commotion ridding you of your woes.
“My bad.” is all you say, the voice coming out of your mouth grates against your ears, foreign to you in every way. You arms entirely to long, everything too low beneath you. Proving your point, your knee hits the corner of a desk and you hit your arm on the back of the couch as you unceremoniously flop down into the seat next to Marvin. Your leg– Hughie's, touches his and you move it immediately scooting over a little afterwords, so your body doesn't touch his.
Marvin says your name, but you don't look at him. “Baby.” he tries again softly if not slightly awkward.
“That's how its gonna be?” he tries to tease, but you don't bite.
You sigh, not sure why you cant look him in the eye or why you are treating him this way.
He lets out a loud defeated sound, too harsh to be a sigh and nowhere soft enough to qualify s a huff. It rumbles in his chest and tingles against Hughie's, making you feel warm inside. Just as quickly a wave of nausea follows it.
“Give me your hand.”
You turn to him on the couch.
“Wha–”
“Don't argue with me, don't say anything.” he interrupts, “ Just give me your hand.”
You blink, scrunching your brows in confusion.
No longer waiting on you he grabs your hand. Hughie's hand, and he interlocks your fingers with his.
You swallow thickly.
You want to turn away. Maybe even to stop it, but the longer you look the stiller you become. The warring overwhelming emotions in you subside, only by a small amount, but they lessen. The heaviness in your chests dissipates and you start to breath a little easier.
Marvin's hands are much thicker than Hughie's—stronger than the extra long and slender hands you now have. He swipes his thumb over your hand in small unhurried patters, and for a moment, without even thinking you do too.
"How do you feel?" He asks softly, leaning towards you.
You pull back slightly, but you don't fight him or push him away.
"Right now?" You wince at the voice and way it cracks as it leaves your lips , but Marvin remains still, patient and watchful, "or like, in general abo—about this whole thing?"
"All of it baby." He holds you a little tighter. "I want to hear all of it." Somehow he softens even more , his shoulders relaxing as he leans in closer, his face and how his eyes seem to sparkle, reflecting light of a new morning's sun as it fills up the room through the windows close to the ceiling.
It was too much.
You quickly turn away.
"I- I don't know." You stammer, unable to think clearly, of something better to say.
"Alright," he doesn't push you. "But if you want to just know that I'm here. . . And that you literally turn red now, so it's not like your getting away with anything."
"What?!" You snap your head back at him and shift awkwardly in your seat. In your own body it would be small. A barely noticeable movement, but with these long arms and legs you feel like your floundering around.
Marvin is the one looking away now, but there's nothing nervous there. His body no longer holding a tenderness or concern.
"I don't know." He noncommittally shrugs, keeping his head turned from you. "You tell me. . . You're the one with the bright red cheeks."
You give him a frazzled look.
"You—" he raises his brows as he looks back at you, stopping you in your tracks. " he raises them higher and crosses his arms, making you stop again, "Fuck you." You lament weakly. Unable to commit to your sour mood, a laugh bubbles from your lips.
Marvin chuckles softly, bringing his hand to your cheek. This time you don't move.
"Okay, baby." He says gently.
You swallow, ignoring once more the warmth that fills your chest, and covers your cheeks.
Fuck!
. . . That turn red. You were actually turning red for once in your life.
How the fuck are there people that live like this with other people just knowing whenever you felt . . A way about things by watching your skin change color.
It was horrifying.
Flashes of memories surge through your mind. A moment of Marvin giving Hughie advise, patching him up, and even given him a hug, sometimes he was yelling or he looked angry, but you looked at his eyes through yours, or rather, Hughie's eyes, and think about the way Marvin looks at him in these moments, and her chest— Hughie's, fills with love. A strong sense of care and comradery.
You swallow, giving Marvin a different look as you regard him with different eyes that see him as a friend and a confidant.
"Like me. . ." You finally say something.
He turns slowly, his face unchanging in a way Hughie finds unnerving, but you find utterly and completely endearing, funny even. What you wouldn't give to be back in your own body and join in on the little game. "For the first time since last night. In this very moment," You continue in a slow quiet voice, as if hearing Hughie's voice at a normal octave would scare you, because it would, in every way it would scare you, "I feel like me."
Marvin clamps a hand down on your thigh.
He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to.
His face falls into something heavy, weighed down with emotion.
You both sit in silence, letting it stretch.
You fight the urge to slouch down further in your seat, so you could lay your head on his shoulder.
"We need to go somewhere." he says suddenly. "You have to come with us. It's. . . for work."
You nod, but he doesn't move, doesn't say anything.
"Okay." you finally say something and he nods back. Patting you once more on the knee and he rises. He takes a step, but abruptly moves back and wait on you.
"You don't have to wait—"
"Sorry, I'm used to leaving Hughie to fuck off on his own" he takes a breath, visibly taking a moment as he half way raises his hands and almost closes his eyes. "Bu I wouldn't leave you. I don't want you to think that I dont care about you. I would never—"
"I know, Marvin." You look down at him and smile, but it almost wavers. You shouldn't be looking down a him like this. "I know."
"Right." He nods and you're both on you're way.
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T // WC: 3.8k // day one of date week & special surprise and more! // masterlist // series masterlist
“Barry.” You wave to Shaniya as you close the door to his office.
“Stop screaming.” He groaned. He was slumped sideways in his office chair, feet propped up on the desk.
“I’m not screaming.” you rolled your eyes and placed several files on his desk, “this is all the data you need for your presentation. Numbers and results are a priority.”
Barry sat up.
“Please tell me you didn’t do the whole thing.“
“Of course not,” you scoff, “not unless you wanted to give me a little something.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”
“Don’t let anyone catch you giving it to me when you ultimately do.”
You plop down on the couch in the sitting area of his office. It was all dark wood and various textures of black, leather, suede, canvas and metal accents. He was fond of random shades of color. Deep hues of red, earthy greens, and striking deep mustard yellows. His space is littered with pairings you sure don’t mean anything, or if they did, he wouldn’t be able to tell you.
Barry was all money status and power– on the outside.
However, you knew who he really was.
He gave you an odd look as you plopped down onto the small sectional in his office. The gesture rang loud in the comfortable silence that was beginning to stretch between you two.
“You’re so different now.”
“I have Momo now.” You look down, shifting slightly in your seat.
“You used to drink just as much if not more than me every night and somehow still be the best employee this place has ever had. You’ve turnt out more clubs are parties than I ever could aspire to and somehow be a full functioning adult that could take care of themselves.”
“Kids change things.” You shake your head, trying to find the words as you do. This was not a conversation you wanted to have with any of your friends.
Barry flashes his teeth, a slight sadness to his smile. “They don’t change us though.”
You huff, giving him a similar one, “they never will. We’re too stubborn to let that happen.”
Work ended fast. Barry was able to finish his work and on time, thanks to a little encouragement and company from you. It was like old times.
Saimaira CC’d you to an email and provided a copy to you as she made further confirmations and plans with Barry. Turns out they had a large new client.
The firm was making more moves to diversify outside of Vaught. Things didn’t look so sure and sound on their own now that the truth has come out that Superheroes aren’t chosen by God and on top of that, the whole Nazi debacle.
It was time to divest.
But you don't want to think about that anymore.
Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.
It was actually happening now.
Marvin had called, as promised, and you’ll cherish that call forever.
You’ve never been more happy to talk to someone over the phone, Hell, you'd never been so happy to actually anticipate a phone call before.
In four breathless seconds Marvin opened the door. He had a rich deep crimson type burgundy shirt. The material was glossy, maybe sheer, something unique. Some of the top buttons were undone, proudly displaying his gold chain on the He paired it with black slacks.
“wow.” You look him up and down.
“I think that’s my line.”
You had definitely done up yourself, but your outfit was simple. A cute long black bodycon dress and a more dramatic makeup look that brought out your eyes and made your lips pop.
“I didn’t know you had clothes outside of your uniform.”
He huffs, his face scrunching slightly. “Do I even want to ask?”
“You wear jeans—or cargos, a t- shirt, and a leather jacket every single day.” You list each item on your finger, “excuse me for being surprised you actually own other clothes.”
“Well, you look nice.” His voice drops low and soft as he ignores you, and you can’t help the way his expression warms you into a matching smile.
You thank him softly.
“Before you come up in here, there are rules we need to establish.”
“Okay,” you cross your arms and smile, giggling, “what are they?”
“No talking about kids,” he holds out one finger.
“Oh no, how will we cope?” you mock.
“No talk about work,” he ignores you again, holding out another finger.
“Is that one for you or for me? Because I never talk about work?” You tilt your head as At brought crosses your mind. “And I don’t even know what you do for a living. This isn’t a good rule.”
“— okay.” He smacks his teeth. “Bad choice of words. That’s on me.”
You can’t help the way your eyes fall to his mouth as he licks his lips in thought.
“Just no talk about how it stresses you out, but yes talk about what it may be.”
“And lastly— pay attention because this one is important.” he adds “If you don’t follow any other rule you have to follow this one.”
You nod along and then jut your chin when he doesn’t say it.
He raises his eyebrows with a look which makes you smack your teeth.
“Yes?” You shake your head. “Okay? I understand.”
“No, helping me in the kitchen.” He pokes out another finger.
“Fine, I accept your little rules.”
“Ain’t nothing about me little, girl.” He swings open his door, “now get up in this house.”
It was the same apartment you’ve always entered, but it couldn’t look any different. The lights were dim, there were several lit candles and on his island was the table setting for two in a moody red and gold.
“It smells good in here.”
“Of course it does.” He grins.
“I like you when you're all arrogant and cocky.” You take a seat, “I mean, you are cute when you're all modest and humble, but I like this other side of you.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks as He rolls up his sleeves, chopping shallots before washing his hands and grabbing an oven mitt. He pulls something out, but you can’t see it past his wide shoulders. A heavenly scent graces your nose.
He carefully plates it before turning around, “tell me what you like about this”
You gasp. “Are these?”
“Stuffed mushrooms.” He answers for you, “but you can also keep talking about me.”
Parmesan, garlic, a cream based sauce, but not dairy.
“Did you make this sauce with cashews?” You say excitedly. “Or was it almonds?”
He takes a lemon and delicately squeezes it over the rest.
“I’m not telling.”
You open your mouth to say something, your face drawing into a pout, but he stops you.
“Eat your mushrooms.” He turns to drop freshly chopped shallots into a pan, adding a touch of garlic, then shaking it. He pops open a bottle of wine and douses the pan with it before pouring you both a glass.
You would complain or perhaps pour, but it was your first date after all. You’ll save it for the fourth or fifth one. The first three dates are for outing your best self forward still and being cute.
You hum as you eat another one. They got better with each one, the sauce more complex on your tongue.
You must marry him. Right now, you have to.
You will marry him and get the recipe for this sauce if it’s the last thing you do.
“Let me get one of those before you eat them all.” It was supposed to be cheeky, perhaps teasing with a lilt of fondness to it, but his eyes glow with an adoration so strong you feel you could touch it in the air between you. Here you are, just sitting at his kitchen island, eating mushrooms, but he’s looking at you like you hold the entire world in your hands. Like you’re the only thing that matters.
Licking your lips, you gently stab one with your fork and extend your arm over the counter. His eyes dip, following the movement of your lips, and then he looks back up.
Without breaking eye contact he places his hand over yours and puts the fork in his mouth.
He grunts in appreciation, giving you a heavy look.
You do your best to nonchalantly grab your wine glass and take a modest sip, but it doesn’t help. You keep a moan from slipping from your lips.
Heaven.
The wine went so well with the mushrooms and made everything in your mouth taste more amazing, leading you to think what it might taste like on him.
You swallow thickly, “I think you might wanna check on your food. It could be burning.”
“It’s not.” He doesn’t let up, his voice thick with an emotion you weren’t sure why sounded so intimidating to you.
“We’ve spent so much time together, but I feel like I don't know that much about you.”
“Uhm,” you shake your head slightly, placing your hand in your lap and willing them to be still, to make yourself not fidget with them,”well I don’t do it intentionally. . . Uh, what do you want to know?”
“Of course you don’t,” he says softly, his expression falling into a soft reassurance, he leans forward once more, somehow not knocking over anything on the island between you. He was so close to your face, but barely. You could taste the wine on the faintest whispers of his words, but they didn’t fan across your lips. You couldn’t feel the breath of his words on your face. “I wanna know everything.”
“I-I. . .” Floored. You dip your head with a smile. Your stomach twists in knots and you feel light headed.
“But of course,” he continues, following your head with his, not letting you hide from him, keeping his eye contact with you, “I’ll settle for anything you want to tell me whenever you want to tell me.”
You avert your eyes, still unable to find the words.
He lifts your chin with the slightest wisp of a touch from his finger, tilting your chin in his direction.
Stubbornly, you continue to look at the corner of the wall.
He brings his thumb to meet his finger and lightly squeezes your chin, jutting your face from side to side until you break into a soft laugh.
“Okay,” you relent, temporarily setting aside your rebellious nature, “I. . . I want you to get to know me.” you start slowly, earnestly. You pull at each finger of your left hand with your right under the counter, “And I want to get to know you.”
Slowly, he lets you go, nodding.
He doesn't smirk or give you a sly look or smile at your expense.
His eyes glow with a light of reverence similar to before, reminding you once more of his adoration for you.
“Alright,” he confirms with a wrap of his knuckles on the counter, hesitating to turn to tend to the food and plate it, “we can talk over dinner.”
And what a wonderful dinner it was.
The wine seared lamb, the fancy long broccoli you forget the name of, and a fancy mashed potatoes you’ve been corrected to call them all night.
“Marvin’s, I. . . I had a different life before Momo, before my brother's accident.” You placed your drink down, balling and unballing your hands before holding one to keep them still.
You were too full for dessert, so he happily packed it up for you to take home, and you both resided on the couch with cocktails.
“Take your time.” He places a hand over yours. You can’t help the fall in your expression as you see he’s still smiling.
Will he still look at you like that once he knows the truth? Everything about you? Will he still be here or will he be like Raheim your ex boyfriend and leave you?
“I’m not this responsible adult that you know me as,” you pause, silently thanking him for not interrupting you, “I. . . Before I had Momo and it was just me, I was the type of girl who’d go out every night. A party, a club, anything and everything, and then I’d go home, shower, change, and then kill it at work like nothing ever happened. I was doing all that and I’m still the best employee.” You smile at the thought of it. The proud feeling of truly having it all was hard to shake off.
“And this is supposed to make me change my mind about you?”
“Marvin, I’m. . . I’m a fake. I’m a fraud. This image of who you see is—“
“She’s real. She’s just as real as what you call the old or inner you.” He takes your other hand in his and you give him an odd skeptical look as he dazzles you with another smile, looking as if he might laugh, “do you think I was this responsible put together man when I had Janine?”
“Don’t answer that.” He stops you after seeing the look on your face. “Because I wasn’t,” he dips his head, terribly concealing his amusement, “I haven’t told you much about what I do for work, but it can be. . . A lot. It took me away from Monique, I had odd hours, and sometimes she’d never know when I’d be home again or where I was. . but then we had Janine.”
“Yeah?” You search his eyes and he softens, noticing how everything was really getting to you, how you truly felt.
“Yeah,” he confirms, “and that’s when I became what I am today. I did it all for my babygirl. No one is perfect and plans to be the most responsible and prepared when they have a kid. You have a kid and then it happens.”
“I’m not done.” You say meekly.
“Lay it on me.” He crosses his arms. “Whatever it is, I'm sure it changes absolutely nothing.”
“I used to smoke a lot of weed.” You squint, waiting for his reaction. His face twists into a hint of a scowl before going back neutral, some of the amusement leaving his eyes, “ok, the days I don’t go out, if work gets too much, I would just go home and light up to take the edge off. That was my go to for dealing with stress, but since Momo is with me I had to cut it out.”
As you explain his face has gone full disappointed dad and now you have to hide a laugh.
“That,” he sighs trying to hold it in, “explains so much about you.” He says carefully.
You let out a matching sigh, softly smacking your teeth and already regretting having said anything about it, “you can say it. You can say you’re disappointed in me.”
“I’m not disappointed,” his shoulders fall, “I just didn’t expect it. I’m glad that it’s not a part of your life but if your situation changes, respectfully,” he quickly adds, “I’d like for you not to pick that particular habit back up.”
“Uhmmm,” you perhaps say for too long of a time, “yeah.” You croaked, your voice cracking a little at this new situation.
You had hoped your brother would wake up and he’d have Momo, you truly did.
One of these days he’ll be out the hospital, Momo will go back to her Dad and you’ll figure out how to carry forward, but also that was the time you were going to start smoking again and now for the first time you have to consider quitting for good when the only thing keeping you sober was the fact that after it’s all over you could just smoke again.
Marvin gives you a serious look and you smile weakly.
“Do I need to make myself clear?”
Your stomach drops. “No,” you narrow your eyes, “I haven’t made any plans to smoke again, but saying it out loud makes it feel weird.”
“Good.” He narrows his eyes back.
You talk some more. He brings up your friends, the people in your life before Momo, and you dodge the subject.
He considerately doesn’t push or keep bringing it up. You ask him about some of the art and photos on his walls. He tells you about his pro black with pan Africanist views. The difference between what that is and Afro centralism and a few other terms you weren’t familiar with.
Surprising. Enlightening. You’ve always been pro black and down for the liberation of black people worldwide, but to know there’s a word for some of your own ideological beliefs and ideas was liberating, it was exciting.
For something so tired to talk about in today’s age and something that’s just been a part of you for so long, it felt like it had a new life. It’s been a while since you’ve had a fruitful conversation about something that gets run into the ground on the internet every single day.
And apparently. . . you’re a pan-africanist.
“It’s getting late.” he says thickly, licking his lips.
Dread fills you as you look over to the clock. “I guess I have to go.”
“I guess so.”
Neither of you move, looking at one another.
He sat on one end of the couch and you sat on the other. You had one of your legs curled under the other and you regret not sitting closer to him. He was right next to you, but with your impending departure creeping up, you couldn’t have felt more far away.
“Let me walk you out.” He reaches out, his long arm not having far to go as he places his palm on your cheek.
You fall into his partial embrace, savoring the warmth of his hand.
You close your eyes, just for a moment.
You’ll see him again. In fact you have the entire week together. You tell yourself all the reasons why this shouldn’t be such a forlorn goodbye, but for some reason it doesn’t work.
You move on autopilot, watching yourself inside of your own body as he walks you outside. You somehow convince him you’ll be okay, your car right across the street, less than ten steps away.
You can feel him watching you.
You smile, wondering what tomorrow will bring and then you hear a scream.
You startle, turning your head to see a man hurling towards you.
His skin looks molton the texture of his skin distorted and mangled, rough and pink. You take a step back, but you’re too slow.
He grabs you by the arm, what’s visibly clear on his face twists into a malicious smile, a scream forms on your lips but you can’t hear it, everything goes dark and you can’t see, but once it’s over you're looking outside of yourself.
You're out of your body for real and you can see yourself choke on a sob and stop screaming.
You look at your hands and your heart races, thundering painfully in your— no, a stranger’s ribcage.
Your hands are long, slender and white. The blue veins you see behind pale skin are foreign to you.
These were man hands.
A wave of nausea floods over every sense of you in this new body, but the disgusting freak was still grabbing at your actual body.
“Hey,” you yell, the voice cracks, sounding almost petulant, not as manly as you’d thought it would be.
The thing turns and you smack it in the face with your fist, using the force of the body, making sure to pack a real punch.
“Fuck!”
“Shit!”
You both yell at the same time.
You shake the fist.
Not strong like a man either.
But someone rushes up behind you.
A dark haired man and an Asian girl start wailing onto the creature man thing.
While the girl keeps hitting him, the man grabs some sort of gun and aims it at its head. A beam of light so bright flashes in its head and the thing screams in agony as the light covers his entire head.
You turn away, squinting to not hurt your new eyes.
“Fucking hell, Hughie,” the dark haired stranger grimaces, “you were supposed to guard the door.”
“Who the fuck is Hughie?!”
“What did you think I was doing?” You watch yourself scream, “I told you it wasn’t going to work in the first place!”
“Guys what the fuck?!” Marvin burst through the doors out of his building. “We had a plan! Why did you bring him all the way out here?”
“Because you’re plan was shit and Hughie fucked it up!” The man spit on the ground. “Frenchie’s little cage didn’t hold ‘em and he scampered past Hughie right out the door and he might have figured out where you live.”
Marvin huffed, ignoring his reply and calling your name.
“I’m fine.” Your voice wasn’t cracking anymore but it wasn’t yours.
The hackles of Marvin’s shoulders visibly rose. Would have been cute or funny if you weren’t scared out of your mind.
“M.M.” You tried to say Marvin, but it wouldn’t come out. You tried again and again. You choked on a sob. Putting your head in your hands to keep from screaming. “Who the fuck is M.M.?!?!”
“Baby,” he stuttered. Marvin’s face twisted in concern and horror. He cupped both sides of whoever’s face you had in his hands, looking into your eyes.
You were looking down at him and it was so wrong.
“It’s me, M.M.” You choked on a sob, “I keep trying to say your name but I can’t.” Tears started flowing down your face which made you cry even more because you were trying so hard to keep them in.
Marvin cradled your head unity he crook of his shoulder, forcing you to lean down a little and you subconsciously- against your will tried to fight it, but he ignored whatever was happening in this strange body that would not let you be held.
Something about crying in his arms made its brain scream at you. The sensation that you were breaking a rule and doing something you shouldn’t, overwhelmed every thought and feeling you had.
“I’m so sorry.” Marvin apologized in your ear. His voice thick with emotion. “I’m gonna fix this. I promise.”
He apologized over and over. You held tight to him. The large white hands twisted into the fabric on his back.
“I’m so scared, Marvin.” You were finally able to say. It came out choked and ragged and a physical pain erupted through every sense of the body. Everything sounded too loud, Marvin’s touch started to hurt. You had to close your eyes to keep what little light that shone from the streetlights from creeping in them.
Marvin called your name and all the strangers clamored around you both, but they faded farther and farther away until you couldn’t see or hear anything anymore.
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