A Tight-Knit Family // Falsettos AU

Problems

Marvin

Trina finally texts me back regarding Thanksgiving. 

Trina: Re: Thanksgiving. I'll be there. Who else is coming?

Marvin: it's going to be a small dinner. Just the five of us so far. 

Trina: Who's the fifth person..??

Marvin: Whizzer...

Trina: No I knew about Whizzer

Marvin: Me, you, Whizzer, Charlotte and Cordelia. Don't tell me you forgot them

Trina: Oh, yeah, your neighbors. 

Marvin: You forgot both of them?

Trina: Bye Marvin

Marvin: Who was the fourth person you thought of??

Trina: I have to go to work

That's the end of our conversation. I'm so confused. Did she forget one of my neighbours? If she did, it was probably Charlotte. She's forgettable. 

(Author's Note: When they're typing, I'm going to use the American spellings of things, but when it's narrating—including dialogue—I'll use the other spellings because I'm Canadian.) 

I accidentally mention this to my psychiatrist during a small-talk portion of our therapy session. Don't ask why we were making small talk. We're both nervous. 

"You don't know Trina has a boyfriend?" he blurts out. 

"What?!" 

"I guess she just... assumed her boyfriend was coming." 

I laugh. "Mendel. She doesn't have a boyfriend." 

"Yes she does," he confesses. 

"You don't even know her!" 

Mendel hangs his head. "Yes, I do." 

I stand up. My psychiatrist knowing my ex-girlfriend makes me feel very weird. Unsafe, kind of. 

"Don't worry," he assures me. "Everything in these sessions is still between us." 

"How- how did you find her?!" 

"I just looked for her. And I guess she was trying to get over you, her ex. So we got together, but I actually think it's working out." 

"WHAT?!" 

"Oh, shit," Mendel mutters to himself. "Marvin, I'm dating your ex-girlfriend." 

I bury my face in my hands. "No, no, no, no." 

"No, no, no!" He sings quietly to himself. "Mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia, let me go—"

I glare at him. 

"Sorry. I couldn't resist." 

"Like you couldn't resist DATING MY EX?!" 

"Marvin, please. This doesn't change anything between us." 

"So... you're coming to Thanksgiving?" 

"If you want me to?" 

I don't want him to. But I need more people at this pathetic dinner. I reluctantly invite him. And then I leave. 

Whizzer

Marvin bursts through the door. "I had a bad day!" he cries. 

"Hello, Marvin." I sip coffee from my mug. 

He notices me. "What are you doing in my apartment?" 

"I've been here since last night," I remind him. 

"But in the morning, you said you were leaving because you had to take a shower!" 

"Yeah, in your bathroom." I take another sip of my coffee. "Wait, so you thought you were just coming home to scream to nobody about how you'd had a bad day?" 

"That's how I come home when I'm angry," he admits. 

"Sit down." I pat the spot next to me on his couch. "Tell me about your day." 

Marvin sits. "I was at the psychiatrist. Mendel, you know him." I nod. He continues. "And I brought up the weird text exchange with Trina, and he was all like 'she has a boyfriend. You didn't know?' And he's her boyfriend!" 

I give him my coffee. He drinks it anxiously. 

"So is he coming to Thanksgiving?" 

Marvin turns to look at me, gripping my (really his) mug tightly. "You're not freaked out?" 

"Well, Mendel's not my psychiatrist, and Trina's not my ex-girlfriend. So..." 

"But you're my boyfriend." 

"Fine." I sigh, getting up and pacing around the room in a pretend panic. "What will we do?! The world is ending. The world is ending, Marvin! Ending!!" 

He sighs. "That doesn't make me feel any better." 

"Sorry." I sit back down. 

"Yes, he's coming. It's going to be a sad little gathering anyway, only six people." 

"Well, it'll certainly be less awkward for me. And it shouldn't be awkward for you!" I say. "She got a boyfriend after you did!" 

"Well... it doesn't really feel like I have a boyfriend, not in the same way," he replies. 

"I'm sorry, Marvin, I'll be around more." 

"No, that's not what I meant. It may be because, you know, we started dating before Trina and I broke up, but I don't know." 

"Okay, well, we should prepare for Thanksgiving, anyway. We're hosting it." 

"I'm hosting it." 

"Didn't you ask me to do all the cooking?" I question. 

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that it's my place." He leans back on the couch. 

"Fine." That's what I get for overstaying my welcome, I guess.