Marco... didn’t have many friends. It wasn’t something that had ever truly bothered him... because in truth, it wasn’t something Marco had ever really noticed before. He had Alfonso and Ferguson and... well, that was about it, really. Because honestly, what more did he really need? A few really good friends were better than a ton of relatively lousy ones. He’d never needed action, adventure... or anything more than what he already had.
... At least... that’s what he’d thought... until he met Star. ...he supposed it was hard to know that you needed something that you never even knew existed... because how would you ever know it was missing in the first place? But now... now he knew the difference. Now he knew what had left the gaping hole in his chest... what, or rather who was meant to fill it, because she’d carved it out and made a settlement inside. He was so painfully aware of her absence that it felt like a piece of himself was gone as he stood in the barren expanse of the room that used to be filled with her colorful quilts and mystery chests and magical wonder. The air felt stale, not even worth breathing as he stared down at the dimensional scissors in his hand ( scissors he’d spent sixteen grueling years earning in order to return them to her... and now she was gone without a trace, spare the gnawing emptiness she’d left ), contemplating. ...he was the only person he could talk to who just might understand... and who just might know why Star had left in the first place, and where she’d gone.
With a swing of his arm, Marco sliced open a portal in the center of the room and took a deep, steady breath before stepping through the slash in space and time to emerge on the other side in the bedroom of a person he never thought he’d go seeking help from; the demon Tom.
