they told me love is patient ᥫ᭡ l. marcus
from the moment you met, something told you Marcus was going to be different–but he’s a Rat, and you don't associate with Rats...right?
who: marcus lopez x prep!reader genre: angst/fluff (comfort) wc: 5,2k content warning: : mentions of parental issues/parental cheating/feeling alone/unsure of how to express emotions/... a/n: sorry for the longest wait in history, please enjoy !!
Your boots scuffed the floors of the hall, they were clean, but they were likely to be dirtied within a few hours. A yawn escaped you as you found your locker, and not even five seconds later came some Rat hollering down the hall. It was too early for that, you cursed under your breath and checked your cellphone, your mother hadn’t replied and there was a string of messages from your father that you didn’t want to answer.
The likely reason was that she had caught him cheating again. But really, who cared? She was probably going through one of her expressive episodes again. Your father had submitted her to an institution a few months back, using the excuse that she was in France visiting her family.
“Stupid politics,” you scoffed under your breath, though, of course someone heard it. A Soto Vato no less.
“What’s wrong? Mommy and Daddy fighting again?”
“Piss off, dog,” you narrowed your eyes and shook your head at him.
A laugh sounded around the group of boys, you couldn’t care less about what some gangbangers thought of you and your family. The only people that mattered–that should have mattered–were you and your parents.
Though, things didn’t always work out that way, did they? There was always someone your father was trying to impress, always someone you had to keep up an image for. What bullshit.
The group left you in the hall, more students began to pile around and soon chatter picked up. It was February but the sun peeked out through the windows. You smiled into it, loving the warmth you felt on your face–the comfort it gave you, even if it was just for a second.
You gasped, trying to keep your balance, “Hey watch it!” One of the guys affiliated with your legacy shouted, pushing the kid off you.
“Hey,” the kid held his hands up, “it was an accident,” he turned to you, holding a hand to his chest, “I’m sorry.”
You nodded, collecting yourself, “it’s fine.” You didn’t recognize the kid, his black hair curled in whisps at the top. He was cute, he looked Mexican, so maybe he was a Soto Vato? Though the thought that he could also be a new Prep crossed your mind, you were sure word would have spread if you were getting a new member, so that couldn’t be it. “What affiliation are you?”
“Don’t bother,” the guy beside you said, he wasn’t your friend, but to be fair you only stuck to a few people. You preferred being alone most days and you weren’t that socially active. You were typically the last to know about things, in your family, at school–it seemed like you were doomed to be at the bottom of the pyramid forever. “He’s a Rat.”
A Rat. This kid was a Rat? Funny, he didn’t look like the sort, you didn’t know why or what it was, but there was something odd about him. At least that’s what you would normally say if this were a normal high school, but it wasn’t–so perhaps this kid–this boy–would fit right in.
You smiled; a sharp, dangerous thing, and sighed, “I see,” the boy’s eyes twinkled, though he wasn’t smiling. You wondered about his name, you wondered how old he was, and about his birthday. What was his story?
“Come on,” you weren’t friends with this guy, but you followed him anyway.
“See you around, Rat.” You meant it, you hoped to see him around, but of course, you couldn’t just say something like that.
The way he tilted his head, confused, calculating, and partly amused, led you to believe he didn't quite believe your act either. You felt a pull as soon as you were two steps away. You wanted to turn back around and continue talking to him.
It was days like these that had you hating life. Because with people like him, you were reminded that you did not get everything you wanted, regardless of what outsiders saw.
There was a party tonight, thrown by Shabnam, one of the guys in your legacy. You didn’t talk much with him, he annoyed you, really, but you had never outright said anything. When you’d heard he was throwing a party, it was the first time you’d had to take a step back and really reanalyze a person.
You were going, but not because you wanted to get drunk and forget about the world like most of the other students. No, you were going because you were hoping to see him.
Sure, you saw him at school almost every day–he was in your AP–but almost every day you were a bitch to him when he tried to talk to you. You had no choice, you were always surrounded.
You wanted to tell him you didn’t mean any of the horrible things you said, and you had said some pretty horrid things. It tore you up inside to humiliate him like that, but what would your parents say? What would your legacy say? They’d turn you out and you’d have to spend the rest of your three years as an outsider–that was worse than being a Rat.
You shuddered at the thought. You hated your situation, but it was yours and regardless of how much you complained about it, you knew how privileged you were, maybe in fewer areas than more, but still. Over the three weeks Marcus–that was his name, you now knew–had been attending Kings Dominion, you had been able to obtain some information about him through the grapevine.
Mostly about where he came from. He was an orphan, though you didn’t know how his parents died, he had yet to share that part. He had been living on the street before coming to school, and he was on the run from the cops because–as you had come to learn his reputation–he set fire to the orphanage he’d been living in. A boy’s home. Just the thought sent a shiver up your spine, it didn’t sound like a fun place.
Music blasted through speakers you couldn’t see. The Dixie Mob had taken over the kitchen table, you rolled your eyes at some of the things spouting from Brandy’s mouth–they were too old-fashioned for you. They needed to wake up, they were in the 20th century and the 21st was right around the corner. But apparently, that was the price of going to school with the future of every live syndicate in existence.
You huffed, noticing a few familiar faces, you blinked when Shabnab ran past you, Lex, a Rat, chasing him with a giant, pink dildo. You had to hold in a snort, what the actual fuck was wrong with the people at this school?
You noted one of your friends near the counter holding bear bottles and plastic, red cups. You didn’t associate with Rats, but Petra–you thought–was alright. You didn’t claim to be friends outright, it would mean social suicide for you and make her “uncool” to her friends.
Petra didn’t have any female friends, if she did, you would be the only one. But Petra didn’t really think she had any friends. She had the group she associated with, and Billy wasn’t an ass most of the time, but she didn’t consider any of them friends. Still, she smiled slightly when she noted your presence, “did you see–”
“–yeah, it was huge,” you nodded, dragging out the last word as you leaned your back against the counter.
“Hit?” Petra blew smoke from the weed she had in her hand. You waved your hand, declining the offer.
“Any wine?’
Petra laughed, nodding back toward the cabinet, “Just for you.”
“I love you,” you walked around her, spotting the exact bottle she was talking about. A whistle came from between your teeth while you began pouring some into the cup Petra held out for you.
“I know,” she sighed. You didn’t like to get wasted at these kinds of parties. You didn’t like to get wasted period, it was unclassy and well, just stupid. If no one from your legacy was watching you, you might as well be dead, it was as good as being a Rat. It was dangerous.
“So, that new kid, Marcus,” Petra hummed, taking a sip out of a different cup, “what do you know about him?”
She shrugged, “he’s a loser–they all are,” you knew she was talking about the guys at your school, but probably the girls too. You didn’t understand Petra and you didn’t really want to, but she was the realest person you’d ever meet at Kings Dominion.
“Yeah, I know,” you sipped your wine, “but, I mean–what’s his deal? His parents died, he’s an orphan–what else?”
“What else is there?” Petra scoffed.
“I don’t know,” you spoke into your cup, trying to keep your voice from wavering, “there has to be something.”
Petra paused, you heard it when she opened her mouth to respond with one of the usual “Who gives a shit?” replies, but she didn’t. She glanced at you, taking in your attire, your hair, your makeup. You noted the slight raise of her brows and the decision to not ask any questions cross her mind, “do you really care?”
You didn’t know how to respond, here was someone you had never lied to. Someone who was always real with you, someone you would stand up for if the time called for it, albeit subtly, but still–it was Petra.
You bit the inner corner of your cheek, ready to admit defeat when she shook her head, “it wouldn’t matter if you did,” she took another puff of her cigarette.
“Why not?” You raised a brow, your frown deepening.
“He’s into that chick from the Soto Vato’s, Maria.”
“Maria?” You scoffed, “the one from AP?”
“The one and only,” Petra rolled her eyes.
“But that’s Chico’s–”
“How do you think he got that scar on his nose?” Petra’s eyebrows finally scrunched together completely and she shifted to fully look at you, “real talk, have you been living under a rock?”
“Possibly?” You tried for amusement, the truth was, your mother and father had called you back home for a few days. They’d wanted to talk to you–oh and talk they did. They were splitting up. Of course, they weren’t getting a divorce, that would just “...be too messy and with the upcoming elections…” you rolled your eyes at the mere memory. They couldn’t change it. It was inevitable. You knew it was, but still, it broke something in you. You’ve been silently screaming for weeks and ironically, you’d been the quietest you had ever been since learning the news.
Yeah, they fought all the time and it had already felt like they would never be as happy together as they once had been, but you would’ve never expected them to say it out loud. You forced the tears away, blinking a couple of times as the conversation with your parents rushed to the forefront of your mind again.
You blinked, your attention being drawn to the seen beside you. “What the hell?” Petra muttered. “That’s–”
“What the hell is he doing?” You left Petra at the counter, approaching the kitchen table right as Marcus threw whatever was in his cup at Brandy. Thankfully, you weren’t caught in the crossfire.
“–shithead–”
“Alright, Brandy, give it a rest,” you tugged at her arm, but she yanked it out of your grasp.
“Eugh, get off of me!” Her makeup was incredibly ruined, you felt bad for her–what the hell even happened?
Where’s Marcus? Your thoughts were overcome by the need to find him.
There. Your eyes met his, Saya–the leader of the Kuroki Syndicate was pulling him back, it pissed you off slightly, did they know each other? If so, how? You weren’t close to anyone outside of your legacy and you were barely close to any of them. Petra was about the closest you got to any sort of kinship–and even then, it wasn’t okay for you to outright be friends.
Petra was a Rat, so she and Marcus ran in the same crowd, she should have warned him about shit like this, why was he going and causing a scene. First the Soto Vato’s and now the fucking Dixie Mob? Did he have a death wish? He was a character, you’d give him that, but maybe he should pick his battles better.
You stormed forward, angry at everything and everyone, you didn’t know which had you gritting your teeth at the moment though.
Maybe it was your parents, maybe it was the fact that you liked Marcus and you weren’t supposed to, maybe it was the way you knew a relationship with him wasn’t possible and if you did pursue one, it would be doomed from the start. Or maybe, it was the way Saya was grabbing him–regardless, you were pissed.
“Come with me,” you snatched up one of his wrists and he let you pull him away from the forming crowd, “are you an idiot?” You were spouting, doing your best to ignore the looks being thrown your way, you needed to find an empty room and cool off–he needed to cool off.
You felt like you were going to burst into emotions you didn’t know how to describe–and there were so many conflicting, you didn’t know which was stronger.
You found a locked room, “dammit,” you huffed, you began walking away, continuing your pursuit, but Marcus grabbed your arm and held you back.
“Wait a minute,” he snatched a clip from your hair and messed with the door for a few seconds. As he crouched down in those few moments, you paused, reanalyzing the situation.
What were you doing? Why were you here–with him of all people? This was stupid, weren’t you just the one saying Marcus needed to pick and choose his battles better? How would this look? “Opened,” he glanced up at you, looking like a proud puppy.
You rolled your eyes and pushed past him, “Don’t expect a compliment.”
“I wasn’t,” though you couldn’t see his hands, you knew he had them up.
“What is this?”
“Oh–gross is this–Shabnam’s parent’s room?”
“Looks like it,” your nose scrunched as you picked up a picture frame and held it closer to your face.
“Thank God I don’t have any of those,” Marcus whispered over your shoulder making a face at the photo.
You snorted and spun around, shoving it into his eyes, “you don’t have any naked baby photos?”
“Auwgh–get that thing away,” he made another face and smacked the photo.
You snorted and set the framed picture back down, “look they have a balcony,” you made your way toward the ceiling glass door, “Shabnab’s parents have money.” You whistled.
“What, like your parents couldn’t afford this?”
“They could,” you assured, “but they wouldn’t be so stupid,” who would waste money on such a tragic design? You shook your head, stepping out onto the small terrace. The city lights were so…evident–to say the least, it was beautiful “This view is amazing.”
“Good job Shabnam’s parents,” his tone was airy and awestruck.
“This–I would pay for this.”
“Oh-ho yeah.” Marcus’ snort led to you laughing uncontrollably.
“Gosh,” you sighed leaning against the railing, “you’re an idiot, you know that?”
“Yeah, I think you’ve said something similar before.”
You frowned, “shut up, I’m being serious for a change.”
He gave in and mimicked your actions, “I know, I know–it seems like all I ever do is,” he shook his head, “fuck shit up.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “you do keep fucking shit up.” He threw you a glare and you held up your hands, “Sorry, I thought we were being honest.”
“Yeah, well,” he turned toward you, using one arm to prop up his head, “if we are being honest, I don’t think you really hate me.”
“I never said I hate you,” you replied, your tone clipped.
He smiled, snickering a bit, “Yeah, you don’t have to, it’d written all over your actions.”
“Then what makes you think I’m not serious?”
Marcus sighed and shrugged, now leaning his back against the railing, “Sometimes it feels like everyone here at this Godforsaken school hates me,” he shook his head.
“Everyone? What about Billy?”
He huffed and pressed his lips together, “Nah, I’m not talking about him–I mean people like,” he glanced at you, “people like you.” You nodded, trying to take no offense to his insinuation. “But then you go and do something like this,” he waved his hands.
“I wasn’t protecting you,” you frowned, averting your gaze. It was a lie. That was exactly what you were doing. But he didn’t need to know that.
“Yeah, and those eyes,” he held up a finger, stepping toward you, “there’s something about your eyes.”
You scoffed, “Something about my eyes? Yeah, okay–”
“–I’m serious,” he cocked his head to the side, “I don’t know what it is, you just look so…sad…I mean everyone at this school looks like that even if they don’t know it, but you…” he stared over the railing and clicked his tongue, “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Don’t worry,” you huffed, “I’ll make it easy for you: you don’t have to.”
“No, but I,” he bit his lip, “sure, whatever.”
A trembled laugh fell from your lips and you sighed, a smile attaching itself to your lips despite your harsh words, “...You’re an idiot, Arguello.”
“I know,” Marcus murmured, an uncontrollable grin forcing its way onto his mouth…. “Why do you do that, though?”
“Do what?”
He hesitated only a second before launching into his question, “why do you act like a bitch at school and then do,” he motioned between you two, “this in private.”
You frowned, not really wanting to talk about it, “it’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t seem complicated to me.”
“I know–” you looked away, unable to keep his gaze, “and I’m sorry.”
Marcus sighed, he wanted to keep going, but he could tell you were out of it already. He wanted to make you smile–for whatever reason, and clearly, he was doing the opposite. “Never mind, it’s not that important.”
Though it was…kind of…to him.
You found your eyes rolling out of their sockets when —, a girl a year older than you in your legacy, stopped you in the halls, “What’s up?”
She resigned a small shake of her head and looked down, a frown spreading her lips thinner than they naturally were, “I just wanted to talk to you about something I’ve heard.”
You sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “What is it you’ve heard, then?”
She bit her lip and kept pace with you as you began to walk toward your next class. You had AP next, and you were anticipating seeing Marcus, you hadn’t seen him over the weekend. Cops had shown up and crashed Shabnam’s house party. Without thinking, you’d snatched Marcus’ hand and led him down an alley–a shortcut back to school.
You were laughing the whole way, it felt like a movie scene–one where the girl and the guy finally made up or became friends–if they hadn’t been already. You wanted to hurl afterward–though it was all worth it; the thrill in his eyes–it gave you something. Something you hadn’t known you were looking for.
“What’s that smile for?” — asked, your lips reformed a straight line as you huffed a sigh, “You don’t normally smile, I mean, I’ve never really seen you smile like that. You never eat in the cafeteria with everyone else. I’ve told the others in your grade to make you come, haven’t they told you?” You shook your head, stopping outside your classroom door. — glanced at it and recognition washed over her, “You’re in AP?”
“Yep,” you gave a tight-lipped nod.
She bit her lip, her smile fading as she pulled you to the side, allowing the others in AP to pass you without consolation. The AP classes were separated from the others, just another hierarchy within this abnormal education system. “Okay, listen,” she lowered her voice, though there was barely anyone lingering in the halls, “I know you didn’t choose this life–trust me none of us did–but we still have to live it, okay?”
You nodded, unsure of where she was going with this.
“All I’m saying–” she cut herself off as Marcus approached you–seemingly coming out of nowhere.
“Hey,” he waved at you, glancing at — for a brief second.
You smiled–trying to keep the memories of Friday night at bay, “Hi.”
He spared another glance at — before saying, “See you inside,” and heading into the classroom.
It was quiet for a moment, but then — ran a hand through her perfectly styled hair, a red headband holding her curls back, “Look, I care about you, you’re my legacy sister and as your upperclassman, I’m just trying to look out for you.” She jabbed a finger at where Marcus had stood, “He will not do you any good–if only you heard what everyone has been saying. We were born into this life–that kid,” she shook her head, eyes almost popping out of her head, “he earned his way into this place. He chose to be here.”
Your eyes narrowed. You’d heard the stories about Marcus, and you knew his reputation–but still, you hated the way she was talking about him You couldn’t help but look down on her for it. Marcus hadn’t spoken about his past in that boy's home and you hadn’t asked. You weren’t really friends to begin with. You couldn’t be friends with a Rat, you knew that, but sill you bit out, “None of us chose this.”
She gave you a pitying glimpse before stepping back, “You might think that now–but it won’t be forever. What would your parents say?”
Her words were like a slap across the face and as she spun around, her flats clicking on the black-tiled floor as she walked away–you couldn’t help but think, what would Father say?
“Choose partners.” Your first thought was Petra. But Billy stole her, apologizing to Marcus in that tone that suggested he wasn’t at all sorry. You didn’t mean to watch the scene, but you did, and somehow got distracted.
Brandy snickered as you walked past her desk, you couldn't care less about what she thought of you–it was your parents that had your panties in a twist. If Brandy–or anyone in her circle found out–there was no telling how fast they’d get wind of the information–or worse, she’d hold it over your head and make you her slave.
You shuddered at the thought.
“—?” You blinked, turning toward the voice. Marcus chuckled, “Are you gonna sit?” The sound of your name on his lips somehow made the rest of the classroom vanish. You nodded and took your seat, smoothing out your gray pleated skirt before scooting your chair closer to the desk.
As Master Lin began explaining the rules of the project, Marcus leaned over and whispered, “Ignore them.”
You kept your head straight, but your eyes darted down and toward him, “what if I can’t?”
He paused, his eyes illumining slightly–he licked his lips, the action capturing your vision. You felt dizzy and you had to focus back on Master Lin in the front of the class before you said something you shouldn’t.
You heard him scoff, but it sounded like he was trying to hide a laugh. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you playful smacked his thigh under the desk you were sharing. He watched you from the side, propping up a hand to cover the smile that wouldn’t disappear.
He felt lighter–and though he couldn’t possibly know, the girl beside him was falling faster and faster in love with him.
A gasp escaped your throat as the ringing on your phone echoed throughout the empty hallway. You pulled it from your bag and huffed, debating whether or not you would answer it. It was your father, again. He’d called yesterday and the day before too–always at the same time.
You should have expected it by now, but of course, you didn’t. You clicked the answer button–had you waited any longer, you would have talked yourself out of it.
“Hello, Father.”
“Ah, —,” he sounded as if he was greeting an old friend. “How are you?” You recoiled at the croaky tone his voice took on.
“Fine,” a sigh escaped your mouth and floated through the speakers. You wondered what shocking secret he was going to reveal this time.
“Why do you sound like that? Are you not liking school? You want to come home for a few days?”
Actually, that is the last thing I’d like to do, thank you. You gritted your teeth, and forced out a, “No, I’m alright–just this new project for AP.”
“Oh, I see, well,” he shifted in his seat, you could hear better now that you had the phone up to your ear rather than on speaker. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”
“I thought we already had this conversation,” it took everything in you not to slam your locker shut.
“Eh… we did, but uhm, there’s…something else.”
What? What could possibly be worse than the hell you were living at the moment? The life you were being forced to live–it was crushing your heart every second you kept up the act.
“Sweetheart?”
“What is it?” You let out a shuddering breath, “just tell me.”
Just get it out. You felt the tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You had AP right now, but it had been canceled at the last second–something with Saya and her family, or whatever. Maybe you could make it to your room without being seen? You started walking, attempting to hold the tears at bay until you got to your dorm. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Now, your mother might be against this–but…you’re going to be a sister.”
You hung up. The tears were falling, you were trying to use the wall to hold yourself up, but it wasn’t helping. He’d gotten that whore pregnant? He really–you were swiping at the tears now and your wails could not doubt be heard throughout the hall. Students began turning around different corners to see what the commotion was.
Your face burned. You wanted to scream, your chest raged with the need. Marcus was looking for you, he wondered if you were going to study in the library like you usually did when class got canceled.
His heart fell to his feet when he heard you screaming, he shouldered past a few kids, nosily sticking their heads around a corner. None of them actually cared. No one seemed to care in this school, not even the teachers. But you–you were…something else. He saw it in the way you looked out the windows when you thought no one was paying attention to you, you longed for something more–something better.
Your phone was on the floor, he snatched it up. You couldn’t have gone far, he threw open every classroom door until he found one that was empty. He listened, and there it was. Subtle, but there.
The darkness you found yourself in hugged you from every side. You didn’t know what you wanted but you knew you didn’t want to think. You didn’t think you wanted to die, but you felt very close to it. You wanted to strangle him and that woman. Could you even call her that? She was a mistress–a homewrecker–a harlot!
How could he call that thing she was carrying in her stomach your sibling? It was a bastard. The closet door opened abruptly, the lighting was dim, but you could no longer say you couldn’t see your feet.
You had your knees pulled up to your chest, your skirt rode up your thighs, but Marcus didn’t notice as he scooped you into his arms. You were sobbing uncontrollably. He didn't know what to do, he didn’t know how to comfort someone, he had never been comforted himself, but somehow, he managed to calm you down, whispering any and everything that came to mind.
He kissed your hair and your forehead a multitude of times, he rubbed your back and his arms tightened slightly every few seconds. You weren’t sure how to react, no one had ever comforted you, not like this. Your nanny had her own children to worry about, though she took you baths and got you ready for the day in your childhood, all of her emotional attention was given to her own.
You didn’t think there was a single emotional bone in either of your parent's bodies. Sometimes you wondered how they ever could have loved each other. That thought had occurred more than once in the past few weeks.
You didn’t know how to say how you felt, but with Marcus, you didn’t think you had to. “Take me,” you murmured into his neck.
“What?” He pulled back slightly.
You nuzzled into him further, refusing to look him in the eyes. How could you? Everyone in your legacy was telling you that you were making a mistake and Petra had said Marcus had a thing for Maria–hell he’d gotten into a fight over her. But you know what? At some point you just had to say fuck it, though, your rendition sounded more like, “Take me far away.”
Marcus paused, considering your words carefully, and a few moments later a smile braved his lips, “Come with me.”
Your laughter mixed with his as you ran through the streets of the city. A car honked at you as you crossed the street without looking. You turned to each other–high off the cold night air–and screamed like you were going to die tomorrow.
You had stopped at a food booth and ate without paying, and you’d run from the food vendor–the old woman shaking a stick at you–Marcus took your hand in his, pulling you around every corner. The city lights soon grew distant, red, yellow, and green hidden behind tall, oversized buildings that were shadowed in gray and black. The weight on your shoulders fell over the edge of the world and for just a few seconds, you were okay.
“Why are we doing this?” You flipped onto your side, finding Marcus already watching you.
He moved one arm behind his head and looked toward the sky, “because we can.”
“We’re in the middle of the street,” you laughed out, planting your hands on your stomach as you turned to watch the stars with him.
“Yeah, but who cares.” He hummed, reaching for your hand again.
Your cheeks flamed and your eyes burned, you squeezed his palm and he squeezed back. You heard it at the same time, a pickup truck was heading your way, but neither of you moved. You looked toward him, but your head stayed planted on the road, he looked downward, a calming smile stretched across his face.
The truck came, honking–eventually, it swerved to the side, nearly missing Marcus’ head. You knew, then, that you had gotten too close to him. Your heart wouldn’t have dipped and you wouldn’t have tugged him toward you in the last second if you hadn’t.
Fuck. Your face fell, wondering if this is what your mother felt when she first met your father. But we will be different. You thought with assurance–and suddenly, as you gazed into his eyes, the words I love you didn’t seem like enough anymore.
Marcus couldn’t help but question you as he fought the urge to kiss you. What the hell is that look in your eyes?
a/n: thank you for reading and please let me know what you think !!
