who: Baelfire & Marceline when: May 25th, after this where: The Ugly Pink House What: Baelfire comes to help Marceline cope with her grief. warnings: None status: Complete.
Baelfire hadn't known it was coming. Perhaps the others had talked about it around him and he had just not registered what they were saying but the news of Noah's resurrection had taken him by surprise just as much as it had evidently taken Marceline. Of course, Baelfire hadn't reacted in the way that Marcy had, and by the time he had seen her responses, there was no way to interject.
So, instead, he had quietly offered to come to her.
He had gotten quite used to visiting the Ugly pink house. So much so that he didn't even need to think about what path he was taking to get there. Having been let in, he now stood with eyes focused upon her, trying to gauge what she might need from him. Other than company, which he'd suspected she needed, and was why he was here now.
The first words Marcy said to Bae were, “How much gasoline do you think you can carry?”
Her axe bass did not hang passively on her shoulders by the strap, but was held by the neck and propped on her shoulder with every intention of using it. There was a slight twitch, just under her right eye that wanted to betray how she really felt. But Marcy knew if she burned down Ronan’s stupid trees or at least cut them to splinters it would be much more satisfying and distracting.
“I think between the two of us, we can probably take down all the trees they got, and then when they run out of their house and are trying to figure out what the heck is going on, we can burn down their house or something. Also their cars. How many cars do they have?”
"Why?" He had asked, as he let his gaze run up and down her form. He had assumed, in those initial moments, that perhaps she was thinking of driving far, far away from Tumbleweed. He didn't think that was a solution to what was happening, precisely, but it was the only logical one he had with the question about the gasoline.
Of course, she had continued to talk and for a moment, Baelfire just stared at her. Then, as realization hit him, there was a shift in his expression. It wasn't quite anger but it was definitely a negative look. "Absolutely not," he then said, his tone both scandalized and firm.
He knew she was upset. He knew she was angry. And he was taking that into account and hoping she wasn't actually serious.
“Why?” Marcy protested. “It’s not like Ronan won’t just use his magic to dream them up new trees and houses anyway. So who cares? They’re all a bunch of jerks and they deserve it.”
It was clear by her tone that she did not view Ronan’s magic in a favorable light. Before there had been concern, mostly for Ronan, but now it was only annoyance. The same level of annoyance she held for Simon when her ability to sympathize was at a critically low threshold.
"Ronan would never forgive you," Baelfire said swiftly. He had been Ronan's friend for long enough to know how Ronan felt about his dream creations. They were important to him. And if they burned down the house? The Lynch family home?
He couldn't even imagine what Ronan would do.
"They aren't and you know they aren't," he then said, though this was spoken with a bit softer of a voice.
“Good,” Marceline spat. “Ronan sucks. They all do.”
Marceline’s grip on her bass axe tightened as she tried to hold onto her anger. But Bae’s voice had softened and that only made it harder. “Why are you defending them? They do deserve it. If it wasn’t such a crappy thing to do, they wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”
"If you really thought that, then why are you upset?" He asked, quietly, eyes still latched onto her. He noted the way she tightened her grip and his frown grew. Cautiously, he took a step closer to her.
"I don't think they were trying to keep it secret. I think…" he paused, trying to put it into actual words, "...they saw an avenue and took it." He knew he wouldn't have been able to help them perform the ritual. He also knew he wouldn't have wanted to. So, maybe it was better he didn't know ahead of time, even if it did make him feel slightly excluded.
But that wasn't important in the grand scheme.
Bae was right, and in a way that was worse. If the Raven Boys had acted somehow out of malice, then Marcy was justified in her anger. Anger was an easier emotion to process.
But if it was just an opportunity they took, it meant they hadn’t really thought of her at all. Just their friends. That hurt was harder to process.
And her face showed it. Because Marcy was trying so hard to stay angry but the grip on her axe loosened and tears in her eyes started to glisten, as her whole face trembled.
It was easier to be mad at the Raven Boys than it was to be in mourning.
He felt his face fall at the sight of the tears. In an instant, he was moving closer to her, and he didn't wait to see if it was okay for him to hug her. Instead, he just did it, being mindful of the axebass, but still enclosing his arms around her.
He hugged her tight.
He didn't know what to say. He was happy for Noah, even if the way it had happened made him uncomfortable, but he didn't think he could say the same for Marcy. He didn't know what to offer her that would help.
Marcy dropped her axe with a discordant twang of bass strings to the floor so she could put both of her arms unencumbered around Bae. There were a lot of things she tried hard not to think about. Back home the few friends she had that were as long lived as her were not technically good people. Rather than deal with her issues, it was preferable to live in a state of denial.
Which was how she could barely go to Bae for comfort, knowing the rest of her friends would one day grow old and die. She functioned with a thin veneer of denial. Some days it just worked better than others. Today she sobbed into Bae’s shoulder and held him tightly, because Noah, perhaps the sweetest of all her friends who she wouldn’t think capable of going evil, was going to die for real some day now. Just like everyone else she knew among the displaced.
He bowed his head so that he could lean it against hers, his arms tightening around her as he heard the sound of her sobs. It was the first time that he could recall hearing her cry in the amount of time that he'd known her. He'd seen her angry, he'd seen her frightened, but he'd never seen her devastated to the point of tears.
He turned his head so he could lean his forehead against the side of her head. He remained silent in that space for a little while, but after sometime, he exhaled into the strands of her hair. "Let's go lay down?" He suggested. If she didn't want to, he'd remain standing with her in his embrace.
It said something about the level of trust Marcy had for Bae, that she had allowed him to see her cry. That she hadn’t locked him out, or been able to keep up the anger routine. It was uncomfortable and vulnerable, making words impossible to form.
So she nodded her head. She had no real desire to lay down or stand or do anything that wasn’t a terrible idea. Listening to him sounding reasonable was the safer bet. Marcy wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, attempting to compose herself. The act exhausted her more deeply than fighting ever did.
He loosened his arms just enough to take a step back once she had nodded her head, so he could look at her. He didn't like the display. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with her being willing to cry in front of him. It was that he didn't enjoy seeing her upset. He reached down and took her hand so he could lead her toward the couch.
He figured it was better than trying to encourage her to fly upstairs. He took a seat and gently pulled at her hand to encourage her to sit with him.
Marcy sank onto the couch, sitting on her knees, legs pointed toward him. It probably wasn’t what he had in mind, but she refused to let go of his hand. What she wanted was some reassurance that Bae wasn’t going anywhere. That Neal and Ororo and Henry and Emma and everyone else she’d met would somehow stick around.
What she wanted was to be lied to. But she leaned in and softly kissed Bae’s lips instead, free hand cupped on the side of his face. She’d accept his kisses as well, and pretend that they meant everything would be alright.
He couldn't give her that lie, at least not directly. If avoiding the subject and the underlying issue was classified as a lie? Well, then, that was something he could do. If she ended up wanting to discuss why she was upset, even if he was certain he understood already, they could.
But if what she wanted was to be together, with her lips pressed against his, then he could do that too. He was sitting up straight and his hand snaked to rest behind her neck, as he let his kisses linger.
Everything wouldn't be alright in the long term but for right now? For right now it could be.
There was something to be said for feeling like a normal teenager. Making out with her boyfriend was innocent and normal. But it was also comfort. Marcy slipped into his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to hold him close. The proximity was just as important.
The day she didn’t have Baelfire to anchor her would be ugly.