Marcus Caravahlo (_caravahlo_) wrote in horror_story, @ 2012-12-18 09:52:00 |
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Getting the fuck out of Black Gate Apartments had been a priority for Marcus ever since he’d moved into the damn place six months prior. He decided to chalk it up to a learning experience. Mostly, he’d learned that he fucking hated apartment buildings, slumlords, and certain loud neighbors. He’d already known that he hated roaches, so that wasn’t new. Houses in his price range were somewhat hard to come by, however, largely because he opted to drink away a good portion of each paycheck. It took some time for him to find a place, and it wasn’t particularly amazing. A one-bedroom duplex on Ivy Lane, easy walking distance from the bar and the grocery store. Not far from work. He shared a wall, but he was fairly certain that the old woman next door was hard of hearing, and an initial investigation of the place hadn’t turned up any signs of roaches or rodents.
That had been the important thing. Marcus was fucking done with roaches.
Since moving back to Crows Landing the previous year, Marcus hadn’t actually made what anyone would call close friends. He hadn’t left on very good terms, mostly because he hadn’t told anyone that he was leaving, or where he was going, or bothered to keep in touch while he’d been gone. Nobody had really expected him to, of course, but that hadn’t stopped some people from resenting it when he’d returned. The list of people he could call on for a favor was criminally short, and while normally that didn’t bother Marcus all that much, it didn’t exactly help him when it came time to move. Even as strong as he was, there were several pieces of furniture he’d be hard-pressed to maneuver down the steps of Black Gate’s inner level by himself.
For a day and a half, he considered just abandoning his shit and buying new stuff. Then he called Jon Bennett.
Jon had never held it against Marcus for leaving. Mostly because he'd left Crows Landing himself. Going on a mission had initially taken the middle Bennett boy to Wisconsin for two years, then he decided to go straight into college once he came back. He'd been in Portland for the duration of the last few years and had only returned home during breaks.
Rob was worlds of help over the phone when asked about Marcus. Probably got himself arrested, Jon. And in all likelihood, it wasn't too far-fetched an idea. Marcus had the type of personality that it surprised people that he hadn't been in serious trouble with the law. At least as far as Jon was aware, it had been a few years.
So it genuinely surprised him when he was greeted by the rugged voice of his childhood friend. "If you are in prison, and I'm your phone-call, I don’t have the money to bail you out. You blew it. Good job."
“Fuck you, cabrón, if this was my one phone call, I’d be calling your mom.” A beat, wherein Marcus might have apologized for being out of touch so long if he’d been anyone else, and then: “So, hey, can you help me move a fucking bed?”
“Depends on where we’re moving it,” Jon let out a bit of a laugh. “If we’re moving it to my mom’s, I’m gonna have to say no.”
Marcus snorted. “No. She begged, but I can’t be tied down like that. Need my own space and shit. I’m at Black Gate. Need to go down a flight of fucking stairs.”
Jon glanced at his watch. “Hmm, give me 20 minutes? I’ll be there.”
“Gracias,” the voice said, and it wasn’t typical for Marcus to offer thanks in any language, so at least there was that. Then the call disconnected.
--
One thing about Jon, is he tried to be as punctual as he could. So it was close to the twenty minute mark when his ‘94 Toyota Camry pulled into the parking area at Black Gate Apartments. Exiting the car, he gave a look to the buildings, and then to Marcus. “What on God’s green Earth made you opt to live in this hell hole?”
Anyone that had lived in Crows Landing for any decent length of time knew that things at Black Gate weren’t always up to code. Jon, himself, had never set foot on the premises because of the horrors he’d heard. The only reason he was here was to help Marcus escape. Though, in all honesty, Jon really wasn’t one to talk about choosing living arrangements, he was technically still living at his mother’s place until graduation.
--
Marcus didn’t look all that different than when he’d last seen Jon, before the man had gone on his mission. He’d started growing his hair out in high school, and it seemed as though he hadn’t cut it since, judging from the length of the ponytail. The weight-training had also been started about the same time as high school, and had certainly paid off for him. Black jeans, a black t-shirt, a noteworthy scowl... it was definitely the same Marcus Caravahlo that had been kicked out of CLHS, just sporting a few new tattoos to show that he had actually left Crows Landing, and hadn’t just been hiding out in Black Gate pretending to be gone all this time. He shrugged, which was also par for the course with him, the why of his residence remained as much a mystery as the how long.
“Figured it couldn’t be that fucking bad, you know?” He smirked then, and that hadn’t changed at all, either. “Heh. Wrong about that. Come on, mano, truck needs loading.”
--
Jon probably didn’t look much different than the last time Marcus had seen him either. Clean shaven, with neat, and rather short hair. Still the same lanky, runner’s build he’d always had. He took note of the tattoos. That was a change he could get used to, even if Jon wasn’t really much for change. That was part of the reason he’d decided that, after college, he’d be returning to Crows Landing permanently. He was definitely a small town type of guy. The big city was just too much for him.
“Let’s get to it, then,” he added, following Marcus’ lead.
--
Not much was said as Marcus led the way through the actual black gate of the building, and up the crumbling cement steps to his second-level unit. Everything was packed and ready to go. There wasn’t much. The bed, dismantled, a bookshelf, a dresser, and a trash bag that was presumably full of bedding or clothes, several boxes, a chair and a folding card table that apparently served for both dining and deskwork. Marcus didn’t apparently own a television or a couch. It was a singularly depressing move, but it wasn’t going to take long. Getting the bed and the dresser down the stairs was the most difficult part, but at least they both fit in the bed of his truck. After that it was ferrying boxes, which didn’t require anything in the way of conversation or complex thought.
Once the truck was packed up, Marcus told Jon that they were headed a couple of blocks over, to Ivy Lane, near the theater. The little grey duplex didn’t really have much in the way of a driveway, or a yard for that matter, but at least it was a solid step up from the trailer park, and several steps up from his place at Black Gate Apartments. Unloading the truck was also much easier, given that there were no cement steps to navigate.
Inside, the place was a little more impressive than it was on the outside. Clean, with freshly painted walls and new flooring, the one-bedroom duplex held some modest charm, though Marcus would probably be well-advised to pick up some actual furniture. The fold-out card table didn’t really add much in the way of interest to the dining room.
--
Jon was quite happy that he wasn't new to the area. Ivy wasn't a very far drive. Well, most of Crows Landing wasn't a very far drive. Jon noted to Marcus that he was still living with his mother over on Pine. Marcus knew that street as well as Jon did. They'd grown up there together, only a few houses separating them. Marianna said she'd die in that house, and Jon believed her. The Bennetts had lived there since Jon was very young, and Marianna was just as against change as Jon was. He claimed that's where he got his stubbornness. It was probably true.
"Man, if my mother were here?" Jon said, stepping inside with the last box from the back of the truck. He cleared his throat and put on his best impression of his short Mexican mother, in rapid fire, high pitched Spanish-influenced English. "'Marcus why you no have a couch? Everybody needs a couch. And you need some curtains, everybody needs curtains,'" Jon had set the box down by that point and let his hand circle around in the manner hers always did when she rambled. He made his way into the kitchen. "'Aie! Marcus, you're kitchen is too small! Come to my place, I cook for you.'" And she would.
Leaning back out into the living room he let his voice fall back to it’s normal range. "By the way, I haven't told her you're back yet. Because you know she's going to ask me what you've been up to."
--
Leaning against a wall, Marcus watched Jon impersonate his mother with an amused smirk. He was genuinely fond of Jon’s mother, but he very deliberately hadn’t kept in touch with any of the Bennetts, and a part of him did feel a vague sense of guilt over that. “Heh. Yeah.”
“Been back six months, actually,” he confessed, and it did feel good to finally say it. Marcus had actually been surprised at how easy it had been to fall off the radar, even in a speck of a town like Crows Landing. Working graves at a hospice facility about an and a half out of town had helped with that. He didn’t keep anything remotely like a normal schedule, and had been lucky not to have run into too many overly familiar faces when his vampire hours did allow him to be out. It wasn’t meant to be a permanent hide. He’d come back to town for his own reasons, and had actually had every intention of making himself known again... he just hadn’t intended on doing it yet.
--
"Care to fill me in on what's happened in your life since we last saw each other? And what the hell brought you back?" As with most prying questions, Jon wouldn't press if Marcus didn't want to talk about it. "I've just got boring college stories," he shrugged.
Jon coming back to Crows Landing wasn't much of a surprise to anyone. And he'd be back more permanently once he'd obtained his degree. Jon thrived on small town living. Big cities, like Portland, wore him out. The only thing aside from school that would keep him up north was Gwen, his fiancé. That was a recent development Jon really hadn't told anyone about.
--
Oddly, Marcus had been steeling himself for reproach over why he’d left, not being asked why he’d come back. He supposed that made sense, though, that people would be more interested in that part of it. What was he supposed to say? That Crows Landing was the only place he’d ever felt truly connected with anyone? That it was safe to come back, now that his father was back on the other side of the country, where the man couldn’t fuck up his life anymore. Cities fucking loved Marcus. He could say anything in them, do anything he wanted to, nobody questioned him. Nobody cared. It had been exhilarating and addictive and fucking terrifying, because Marcus had learned very quickly that when nobody was holding him accountable for his shit, he sure as fuck didn’t. He wasn’t going to make a home for himself in Medford, or Portland, or fucking New York. He was just going to spiral until he self-destructed.
So he’d come home. Where there was judgment, but at least it was fucking familiar judgment. It came from people who’d known him his whole life. People like the Bennetts. In a sense, he’d left because of Jon, and he’d come back for Jon. Because he’d known that Jon would. Like hell Marcus was ever going to admit to that, however. He’d grown to resent that influence. That need to have a constant in his life, even if it was a frustrating, holier-than-thou constant like Jon. He’d die before saying it out loud.
Instead, he shrugged again, folding his arms across his chest and wishing that did have a goddamn couch. “Lot of shit’s happened,” he said, vaguely. “Turns out I don’t fucking play well with others. Figured I’d lay low for a while. Can’t get much fucking lower than Black Gate, yeah?”
--
"No, you don't," Jon laughed. "But that is a matter of opinion, I think."
He thought on the remark regarding Black Gate and shrugged. "Barring third world countries or sticking just to Crows Landing? Yeah, Black Gate's pretty bad." He looked around. "But you've got yourself a decent place now. Just need some furnishings."
Finding a cozy spot on the wall by the kitchen, he continued. "I could see if any of my church friends have anything in the way of furniture they don't need? Mom frequents garage sales, she'd keep her eyes open." Another shrug. "Unless you're still flying under the radar, then I won't mention it to her."
Marcus shook his head, to indicate that he didn’t intend to stay hidden anymore. “Sure. Thanks.”
Jon was the type of friend that liked to take care of his friends. Marcus especially as he'd kept most of the other kids off of Jon's back throughout school. He was also the type of friend to pick things up where they'd left off.
"And hey, you're not living with your parents or in a room with a strange guy for two years of your life. It's nice to shower without religious conversation."
--
An eyebrow was lifted at that particular remark. Marcus hadn’t asked Jon what Mormon missions entailed, as he’d mostly been bitter about the other man’s leaving. He hadn’t cared to know the details, and if his father had received any letters on his behalf, Marcus sure as fuck didn’t know about it. “They made you shower together? Kind of fucked up.”
--
If asked, Jon would verify the fact that Mr. Rodriguez hadn’t received any mail for Marcus from him. He had written his mother. However, those letters were few and far between. Missionaries didn’t have much time to themselves, and that was just how things were, and Jon accepted that.
“For two years, they partner you with a companion. Sometimes they change, depends on the circumstances. It’s the buddy system from--” Well, it wasn’t exactly from Hell, he decided not to go with that phrasing. “You eat together, share a room, travel just about everywhere together, study together. About the only time you’re left alone is in the can or the shower. But my buddy was strict about it, so he’d stand outside the bathroom whenever I was in there until I came back out.”
He let out a half-nervous laugh. “Needless to say, I learned to be comfortable with it rather quick.” It had taken him a while though, as did sleeping in the same room --but not bed-- with a few other guys, not just his companion. He understood why the Church had set out the guidelines for missionary behavior. Why they had near constant companions. Their buddies were there as witnesses, if a witness was ever needed. Accountability. Things like that.
“But yeah, dude would stand outside the door reading scripture at me and trying to discuss them. Could’ve waited for me to come out. Told him that. Didn’t work.”
--
“Heh. No fucking wonder you come back wanting to marry some puta right away,” Marcus teased, essentially reciting the line that he knew he was supposed to recite. Prior to Jon’s leaving - when it had become crystal fucking clear that Jon was actually going to go through with it - Marcus had fallen into cracking jokes. It wasn’t too difficult to mask the underlying bitterness. He’d hoped to convince Jon to leave Crows Landing with him after high school, rather than go off for the church. It just hadn’t panned out that way. Fuck the ever-present Robert York for not letting him get the guy alone at that graduation party. Fuck the Mormons and their strange adulthood rituals. Fuck the town, and fuck the Bennetts.
Except now he was back for more. There was probably a label for that condition. At least the lines were familiar. That was a big part of the appeal, wasn’t it? Here in Crows Landing, with Jon, Marcus knew the fucking script. He cut to the chase. “So you got half a dozen kids, yet? Make Mama Mari proud of you?”
--
Jon laughed a bit and shook his head. He expected that sort of thing from the people at church, his mother, and extended family. But it honestly surprised him to hear Marcus ask him about kids, joking or not. “Well, I’d kind of like to get married first. Finish school. Maybe settle down before I bring more Bennetts into the mix.” Jon didn’t subscribe to the stereotype of his faith. Sure, family was a big thing to him, but he didn’t agree with being too young a parent. He didn’t feel he was quite ready for that particular chapter of his life. School was the priority. At least for the moment.
“Though, I’ll be jumping the marriage hurdle soon enough,” he looked straight at Marcus now. Soon didn’t necessarily mean in the next year or so. He and Gwen hadn’t set a date, they both wanted to finish school before they tied the knot. But he’d proposed and she’d accepted. “After graduation of course.”
He couldn’t hide the happiness that hung in his gaze. He love everything about her. But he wasn’t going to drivel on about her just yet. The last thing Marcus needed was a sappy chick flick in his couchless living room.
“What about you? You found yourself a special somebody yet?”
--
Marcus met the other man’s gaze with a cool, completely shuttered one of his own. An emotionless expression on his face, like he was channeling some kind of fucking reptile. As if the news of Jon’s engagement was about as interesting as the news of a street being re-paved. It wasn’t unexpected, really. Hell, it was surprising that Jon had waited this long. There’d been really no good reason to think that Jon would be single, so Marcus was determined not to be pissed off about it. He sure as hell wasn’t about to be hurt. Why the fuck would he be? That kind of shit had been one of the many fucking reasons Marcus had left. Groundless irritation. Wanting to claim some kind of ownership over something he didn’t have any right to. At best, it was irrational and pointless.
Still, Marcus didn’t even know the bitch and he already felt safe in the certainty that he hated her.
That didn’t mean he was in a hurry to show it, however, so he just shook his head instead of commenting on the fact of Jon’s engagement. Later, it could become a wound he wouldn’t be able to stop picking at, but not now. Not yet. He snorted. “Not me, ‘mano. I don’t fucking do ‘special.’ Leave that shit for more sentimental motherfuckers than me.”
--
“We’ll leave sentimental as my department,” Jon nodded and glanced at his watch. “I should probably get back to Mom’s. She’ll be starting dinner soon.” Pushing himself off the wall, he made his way to the front door. "If you've got nothing else planned, you're more than welcome to join us. I'm sure she'd be glad to see you."
He pulled the door open but lingered in the doorway. "And if not, I'm here until fall term starts, we can go for drinks or something." And there was the Jon awkwardness. He didn't want to just leave, as there was a lot of catching up to do. However, he also didn't want to blather Marcus' ear off about school and Gwen. Then there was the fact that his phone would ring and it would be his mother wondering where he was if he wasn't back in time to eat.
--
“Heh. You fucking drink?” That was surprising to hear, though not in an unpleasant way. Marcus would’ve suspected Jon to toe the line with that one. For the first time since seeing Jon pull up at Black Gate, the larger man’s grin was genuine. Drinking was something that Marcus was very capable of doing. “Yeah, sure. I got shit to do tonight, but I’ll be around. Tell mi mami I’ll stop by. I fucking miss her food.”