📂 OPEN FILE : FOOLS (marcus baker)
─── ❝ only fools fall for you, marcus baker,
and i am not one of them, ❞ ───
︴ 3rd person point of view
︴ marcus baker x fem oc!
︴ full description inside
︴ slow updates
︴ read in dark mode
︴ s...
MARCUS SITS UP on his bed when his eyes land on Marigold at the entrance of his room. She closes the door behind her and walks in further into his room, her eyes scoping out his room.
It's a cluster of art mess but strangely, Marigold finds it to be exceptionally clean. There is an art station on the left to her, a mixture of canvases and portfolios and drawings in the wall. On the wall to the right is Marcus' name drawn out in American Sign Language. Marigold remembers that day that the Moon siblings were watching him do that, him just freehand drawing the hands on the walls. Marigold remembers being shocked that his parents allowed him to do that because she knew that if she were to ever ask her parents if she could draw on her walls, she would get a scolding for being immature and messy.
The eye on the wall behind his bed is new. She's never seen it before, him presumably drawing it in the time after Kian's death.
"Talk? About what?" Marcus asks her, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the wooden floor.
"Last night," Marigold begins, not knowing where to look. "Why, uh, were you in my room?"
"I was, uh, dropping you off from the cemetery," Marcus answers her, gesturing for her to sit on his bed. "We met each other at the cemetery."
Marigold almost face-palms herself. She went at the dead of night to avoid meeting Marcus as the cemetery but it looks like he had the same idea.
"Is that it? You just dropped me off at home?" Marigold asks, waiting to hear what he has to say about undoing the braids in her hair.
Before he could answer, a memory flashes through the girl's mind, her head suddenly pounding as it did when she woke up. She winces and rubs her temple, trying to steady herself.
"Goldie, you okay?"
Marigold takes this as a chance to seat herself on his bed. She sits atop his duvet, her right leg on the ground and her left leg tucked underneath the right, her foot hanging of the edge of the bed.
This memory is of Marcus handing her the vodka bottle that she saw was on her vanity this morning. He had called her 'Marigold' which, thinking about now, he never does unless he's serious. Last night's her had mocked him for calling her that and then told herself to 'shush', scared of waking her father up.
Marigold, again, wants to face-palm herself. She really is the most embarrassing drunk.
"I drank a lot last night, didn't I?" Marigold laughs dizzily, her index and middle finger still rubbing her temples in circular motions. "You tried to stop me and you had called me 'Marigold' which I found funny."
