Eighth Death

Chapter Fifteen: Broken

The more Marcy screamed, the more Kaiza's entertainment seemed to grow, because he didn't stop even after breaking her faco dinner set. One of her priced possessions, the one she purchased with much effort at an auction, that too with eight hundred bucks. She looked at the fine China on the floor, absolutely crushed. She wanted to pull out her fucking hair.

"I hope Drea cooks you into soup, with extra garlic powder and additional chopped garlic so you leave people's mouth with a stink." She screeched, nostrils flaring. She heard the sound of faint laughter once more before it disappeared once and for all, she watched as the door to her apartment opened by itself, now that she heard closely, she could listen to the sound of Kaiza's boots thudding against the floor as he left, without closing the door.

She picked up the decapited snake head, not minding the blood coating her fingers as she threw it in the direction of the open door, "Bitch." Kaiza groaned, though she still couldn't see him, and before she could. She rushed to locked the door.
Kaiza: 1 point, Marcy: 1 point. Score even.

Marcy grinned, then she remembered she had snake blood on her hand, a shit ton of broken plates on her floor and a snake's body near her coffee table. Delightful. She grabbed Keegan's arm before the blonde could leave, "Surely my dear best friend is helping me clean." Marcy gave him what he called her 'killer smile'. He gave her an awkward one in return.

"Surely, my lady. Let's get to work." He mumbled, voice laced with a hint of fear and body lumbersome as he rushed to pick up pieces of the broken plate, well plates, and toss them in the trash.

Yeah, it took three whole hours to clean up the whole mess, the two looked at the tiny cuts on their fingers, stinging slightly. All thanks to those goddamn broken plates.

Keegan sighed loudly, running a hand through his golden locks. Marcy could tell it was one of the rare moments Keegan Morales ever got tired, he gazed back at her. His eyes were filled with a rare softness. "Don't do that again, Marce." He muttered, his voice a soft whisper.

"Do what?" She raised an incredulous brow. To her surprise, he pulled her in for a gentle hug, strong arms engulfing her in his sweet scent.

"Don't be reckless like that Marcy, I know I torture the heck out of you but losing you hurts. Every single time, even though I know you'll come back, it hurts. I know you hate Kaiza but he can easily end you once and for all, he can make sure you never return. I don't want that, I've been alive for centuries but I've never met someone as aligned with my own mind as you are. I don't want to lose you, Marceline. If not for your sake, do it for mine. Get a hold of that tongue of yours, don't die." He sounded as if he was actually in pain, she looked up at him. Marcy tried real fucking hard to hold back her tears.

Because no matter how much he annoyed her, no matter how many times they bickered over silly things, no matter how many times she has wanted to strangle him for saying something stupid. She loved him, and she knew he did too.

They shared a platonic kind of love which they knew could only ever be found once in a couple lifetimes. They both knew that Keegan wasn't Keegan without a snarky Marceline by his side, and they both knew Marcy wasn't Marcy without an annoying Keegan by her side. Marcy had experienced love before, both for friends and lovers.

And yet she knew the love her and Keegan shared was the purest form of it all.

She hugged him back, a few tears escaped her eyes anyway. "I'm not dying, K. I'll always be there to make your life miserable as if I get paid for it." He laughed, giving her a pat on the back.

"Better not."
"Never."

Keegan stayed silent for a moment, "Are you on your period?" She suddenly wanted to choke him to death all over again, she gave him an angry look before pushing him away. The blondie only rolled his stupid ocean blue eyes, looking great even when he was being sassy. "Listen Marcy, I'm your friend, I want what's best for you."

Marcy clicked her tongue, "Who did you murder and who's body do you need my help to bury?" Keegan bit his tongue so he didn't let the 'your mom' joke slip out, "I'll try to put it in the most humble way possible. You need a dick." He said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

She scoffed in disbelief, giving him a nasty look. "A dick is what I need? Out of all things? A man's genitals is what I need? What are you? A man on an alpha male podcast? What's next? You're gonna start calling me a dishwasher and tell me to have kids before I lose my youth?" She snapped, not taking his words lightly. At all.

"Holy shit calm the fuck down. Maybe you don't need a man's genitals but you need the company of one, maybe you don't need a dick but you need someone who has it." He explained, trying to sound as calm as possible.

She took in his words before she carefully asked, "Keegan?" He gulped, "Yeah?"

She pointed an accusing finger at him, "Are you telling me to get back into dating?" He took a few steps back, genuinely terrified for his life.

"I uh well, telling you that I lost a game of chess to one of your ex clients and told him I'd get a buzz cut if I lost because I have never lost a game of chess and then I did, but I don't want to lose my hair so I asked him what else I can do. He said, I uh...if I can score you a date with him. I'll be forgiven."

If stupidity was a person, that would be Keegan shit-eating Morales.

"And you agreed to it?" She smacked him on the forehead, growing more aggressive. "Listen Marce, I love you but I also love my hair. And it's just one date!"

"I got cheated on in my last relationship se-" "Seven times, yes I know. But you were a dumbass back then, and seventeen."

She flipped him off with a groan, "Oh shush, he isn't even a bad guy. Sexy as hell, if you ask me. Rich too. His apartment is over two thousand square feet, sounds like a good deal to me." He defended, raising his hands up in surrender but also giving off that, 'You know I'm right' attitude with a slightly raised brow and a teeny tiny smirk.

"A good deal? He isn't a grocery item! Or an iced caramel latte with oat milk." She spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep herself from snacking him again. "First of all, oat milk is more expensive and second of all, a man can be anything he aspires to be." He shrugged, trying to play cool as he gave her a pat on the back.

Her lips curled upwards into a sneer, Keegan tried not to snort. "He's rich, that's all that matters. He can buy you unlimited art supplies." She pinched his arm, "Which client are you even referring to?" Marcy sighed, thinking about a date was crazy, but thinking about considering going to that very date was even crazier.

Maybe, just maybe. Keegan was right. Perhaps she did need to start dating again. And the man was rich. That's all that mattered. She sighed, knowing damn well it didn't. Not to her.

She looked back at Keegan who looked as if he was trying to recall the name of the very client, Marcy didn't get that many clients really, only four or five a month. But her pieces weren't exactly cheap and people tended to buy a couple at once, and that's how you afforded the rent of an apartment in New York. Most of her clients were memorable, Marcy was even good friends with a few of them.

But her way of remembering them was which brands they carried around them the most. The one who practically breathes in Rolex? That's Sebastian, an elderly divorced and polite man who might have a thing for. The one with all the bright Gucci purses? That one was Katie, a blonde woman who always sounded cheerful, a bitch at times but nice in general. The one who was a little to attached to her navy blue Chanel bag? That was Lia. The one who for some reason always wore Calvin Klein underwear and had the need to push his pants down every time so the whole world could see the brand of his undies? That was March. The one with the- well you get it.

"His name was Loren, I think." Keegan finally answered after a long while of thinking, Marcy pondered for a moment. "The one who always wears a Cartier watch?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. Keegan wiggled his brows, "How the fuck am I supposed to know what brand of watch he wears?"

Marcy tried not to roll her eyes as she tried to remember what Loren looked like, the man with the Cartier watch. She didn't remember that well, honestly. He was in a rush when he bought five whole paintings from her. She recalled specs of curly hair and kind looking brown eyes. Meh, perhaps he wasn't going to be that bad.

Maybe, Marcy should indeed start dating once again and not think of...death. To say the least. Yes, death. Definitely not an individual named, Alaric.

Her lips thinned into a line, she then let out a long sigh. "I'll do it, I'll go."