how to make a mixtape :: mgc (fin.)

3. concussions & accents

I FORGOT WE HAD TO UPDATE TODAY SO THIS ISN'T EDITED (AS OF NOW, IT HAS BEEN EDITED ) BUT SOON WILL BE -D
(also it's my birthday tmrw ssshh)

-

"Mars, I find it terribly difficult to believe you know how to make a mixtape," I say, crossing my arms incredulously. It's not that she doesn't have the capability to make one... It's more of my possesiveness over something I call my own.

She gives me a look and presses down the eject button on the stereo, pushing in one of my mixtapes. The store room is stuffy and attacks my chest with coughs every now and then, but that pestering customer is upstairs and I don't feel like talking to him. I turn around, bring the neck of my shirt over my mouth and splutter into the cloth. I draw back with a sound of disgust and look back to Mara. She's watching the disc spin in the stereo intently, not replying to my statement. I don't expect her to, anyway. Mara is Mara, and she doesn't act in denial. She knows when someone's right.

"I'd love to know how, though." Her legs are brought to her chest and her chin rests on her knees. Her skin seems olive under the dull candle light. If I tell her, she'll probably hit me, so I restrain myself from doing so. I try to breathe through my nose as Brick by Boring Brick fades into SOS by se7enteenblack on Tumblr. A happy mistake, it was, discovering li'l ol' Ash.

She coughs, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Don't you just download some songs and burn them to a CD?"

I run my hands along the wooden floorboards we sit on. They're cold and creak with every contact. Sometimes I imagine collapsing into a hollow beneath the ground. "It's more than that."

"How so?"

I push off the topic with a shrug. I've never been one for explanations.

She grips her thighs. "When can we leave?"

I pause the stereo and point to the ceiling. We can hear Alejandro and Michael laughing over something from the living room, and the smacks of their hands as they high five each other. Probably playing FIFA, or something.

"Are you seriously afraid of Michael?" She cocks an eyebrow, her tone taut as she tries to not swallow any dust mites. "He's about as intimidating as a kitten. No need to get flustered over him."

I lick my lips. "I'm not flustered, I just... don't want to see him, I guess."

She pulls a grimace. "Watch it. He's in my music course - I could tell him everything you've said up to this point."

I clutch her hands, my gaze meeting hers. She grins. "Please don't. I don't want him to hate me."

Mara's lips part, but close as the hatch opens and light streams in ribbons into the room. I squint and blow out the candle. A silhouette comes into view from the top, and the dark blots clear away from my eyes enough to know Alejandro has come.

"Ladies, I think it's time for you both to come out." He's holding the hatch open with one arm. "All the germs will make you ill, and Mara's mum will string me alive if she misses another week of uni and it's under my watch."

Mara's already tugging herself up, brushing off her back and elbows. Dust swims around her, but I remain on the floor. I lace my fingers together so they sit folded on my lap. "Do I have to come?" I ask.

"Yes, because I've found someone to betroth you to so you can leave this goddamn business."

He rolls his eyes, and I scrape my nails along the floor, gathering dirt. I'd probably marry him off before he does me. It's a natural feeling in me to start a family -- a built in necessity, or should I say crave, for a martial life. Alejandro... Not so much.