Pretty Boy: The Lost Chapters

Brad's Survival Arc: Part 21

Marshall sat with his arms crossed behind his head, one of his legs dangling over the edge of a wide branch currently holding his weight. Minimal natural lighting did little to distract him from the picturesque view of the forest basking in the dwindling clutches of late autumn. His open leather jacket bellowed in the wind, silver braided chains clinking against each other. A light flurry caused tiny snowflakes to stick onto his eyelashes.

Further down, Brad was indulging in a well-deserved snack. Blood dripped down his chin, seeping into the ground near a deceased mountain lion. Fluffy beige-colored fur was stained red where strong hands took hold. Aside from the occasional satisfied hum, though, the forest surrounding them was peaceful.

Any other animals in the vicinity were quiet since they'd realized fierce predators were lurking. Regardless, the overall silence was nice.

It helped Marshall gather his thoughts more clearly.

His most recent confrontation with his old parents a few weeks ago really made him think: what was he going to do if Bella showed up? If the situation became physically confrontational, which he assumed would happen, would the correct course of action be to kill her? Marshall could tell she was beyond saving—something shown more so with her previous actions as a vampire instead of her actions as a human. He knew, just like how Brad dealt with Yasmine, disposing of Bella would keep a lot more innocent lives safe. The world would have one less dangerous threat to deal with.

Because of his change in mentality and emotional state, however, Marshall wasn't one to deal with his issues by using physical violence anymore. He never truly liked to, honestly. Doing so in the past happened as more of a last straw kind of reaction. Learning to reel his explosive temper in made him not want to rely on his fists when it came to "hashing things out".

But this was one ordeal, no matter how much he changed as a person, which would never stop chasing him.

He really hoped, when their inevitable meeting did happen, no one else would be around.

Marshall meant it when he said he didn't want anyone else to get involved with something they didn't need to be a part of.

"You're spacing out a little up there, cabrón."

"Would you rather I help you clean up, pendejo? Need me to run you a bath with extra bubbles before we part ways for the night?"

Brad flashed his middle finger with an exaggerated roll of the eyes.

Marshall reacted to the gesture by flashing a silly, toothy grin. He jumped down from his perch, landing directly beside his best friend. Out of instinct, a napkin was pulled out of his pocket to help erase the remnants of a messy dinner. Once tan skin was free of any lingering stains, together, both men joined hands to begin their journey back home.

"You seemed a little extra hasty to go hunting today. You okay?"

Brad nearly stopped walking. His grip tightened by a small margin. A playful demeanor melted into something more serious without much prodding.

He'd probably been mulling a few things over in his head for a while.

"...Could I ask you a really personal question?"

"Of course- what's up?"

He looked down at the ground covered in brown, decayed, partially frozen leaves. "How...long did it take you to get used to Paul's blood? Like, when did you really trust yourself to start letting your guard down- trusting yourself enough to not be afraid of physically harming him?"

Taken aback, Marshall pointed his gaze toward a darkened sky blanketed by heavy clouds. "Well, it definitely took a lot of work on my part. And a lot of restraint. You know the wolfy smell helps to cover up the smell of blood. But it doesn't erase it completely.