The week dragged on, heavy with tension and unspoken emotions that hung between Ruin and Marceline like an invisible wall. Things had changed after that night at The Forge—the night they both admitted what had been growing between them for weeks. But with those feelings came complications that neither of them seemed ready for.
Ruin's days at the office were worse than ever. The stress piled on relentlessly, her workload suffocating, and her usual escape—Marceline—wasn't providing the same comfort it used to. Something had shifted, and no matter how much she tried to push it away, the growing anxiety gnawed at her every time she thought about what was happening between them.
She wasn't ready. And yet, she didn't want to let Marceline go.
As the clock hit 6:00 PM, Ruin found herself standing outside The Forge, staring at the neon sign flickering above the door. Her heart pounded in her chest, but not with excitement like before. Now, it was fear. Fear of the changes, of the things left unsaid between them.
With a shaky breath, she pushed open the door, stepping inside. The familiar scent of whiskey and wood filled her senses, but it didn't calm her the way it used to. Instead, her chest tightened as she caught sight of Marceline behind the bar, her back turned, her cherry-red hair falling loose over her shoulders.
Ruin hesitated, wondering if she should leave. But before she could make up her mind, Marceline turned around, her dull blue eyes landing on Ruin. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in Marceline's gaze—relief, maybe—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by an unreadable expression.
"You made it," Marceline said softly, her voice neutral.
Ruin forced a smile, her nerves making her hands tremble slightly as she slid into her usual seat. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Sorry I'm late."
Marceline shrugged, pouring Ruin a drink without asking what she wanted. She always knew. But tonight, even the familiar gesture felt... strained.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Ruin could feel the tension, like a storm brewing just below the surface. She sipped her drink, hoping the alcohol would calm her nerves, but it did nothing to ease the growing knot in her stomach.
"You've been quiet lately," Marceline said suddenly, her voice low, careful.
Ruin flinched, her wolf ears flattening against her head. She knew this conversation was coming, but she wasn't ready for it. "Yeah, just... work's been rough," she lied, avoiding Marceline's gaze. "You know how it is."
Marceline's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It's more than that, Ruin," she said quietly. "I can tell something's bothering you."
Ruin's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of Marceline's words pressing down on her. She didn't want to do this—not now, not when things were already so fragile. But Marceline wasn't letting it go. She never did.
"I..." Ruin swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the glass. "I don't know what to say."
Marceline leaned against the bar, crossing her arms as she studied Ruin with a look that made her feel both seen and exposed. "Tell me the truth, Ruin. Don't shut me out."
Ruin's breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening painfully. She didn't want to shut Marceline out, but the truth terrified her. She was falling harder and harder for Marceline, but with that came a fear she couldn't shake—the fear that she wasn't enough. That this was all too good to be real. And worse, that she was dragging Marceline down with her.
"I don't want to mess this up," Ruin whispered, her voice trembling. "But I don't know how to do this. I'm scared, Marcy."
Marceline's expression softened at the sound of her nickname, but there was still a hint of sadness in her eyes. "What are you scared of?" she asked gently.
Ruin bit her lip, struggling to find the words. "I'm... I'm not good at this. I don't know how to be... enough. For you. For anyone. And I don't want you to get hurt because of me."
Marceline's gaze softened further, but she didn't move closer. Instead, she stayed where she was, watching Ruin carefully. "You don't have to be perfect, Ruin," she said softly. "I'm not asking you to be. But you can't keep running away from this every time it gets hard."
Ruin's heart ached at the quiet intensity in Marceline's voice. She knew Marceline was right. She had been pulling back, retreating into herself the moment things felt real. But she didn't know how to stop. The fear of getting too close, of being vulnerable, was too deeply ingrained in her.
"I don't want to hurt you," Ruin whispered, her voice breaking. "But I don't know how to... how to be what you need."
Marceline was silent for a moment, her eyes searching Ruin's face. Then, she took a slow, deep breath, her voice calm but firm. "You're not hurting me, Ruin. Not yet. But you will if you keep pushing me away."
Ruin's chest tightened at the words. She had never seen Marceline look so serious, so... vulnerable. It scared her. She didn't want to hurt Marceline—she couldn't bear the thought of losing her. But the weight of her own insecurities was crushing her, making it hard to breathe, to think.
"I'm trying," Ruin whispered, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "I'm trying so hard, but I'm so scared that I'll mess it up."
Marceline's expression softened, and she reached across the bar, her hand gently brushing against Ruin's. "I'm scared too," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "But we can't let that stop us."
Ruin's heart pounded in her chest, her emotions swirling in a chaotic mess of fear, love, and doubt. She wanted so badly to believe Marceline, to trust that they could make this work. But the fear still lingered, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.
"What if I can't?" Ruin whispered, her voice breaking. "What if I ruin everything?"
Marceline's fingers tightened around Ruin's, her touch steady and reassuring. "Then we'll figure it out," she said softly. "But you have to trust me, Ruin. You have to let me in."
Ruin stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. She wanted to trust Marceline—wanted to believe that they could make it work. But trusting someone meant opening up, being vulnerable in a way she wasn't used to. It was terrifying.
But Marceline was right. She couldn't keep running. She couldn't keep pushing her away.
"I'll try," Ruin whispered, her voice shaky but sincere. "I'll try to let you in."
Marceline smiled, a small, tender smile that made Ruin's heart ache with both relief and longing. "That's all I'm asking," she said gently.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the tension slowly fading as they held each other's gaze. Ruin felt the weight on her chest lift, just a little, and for the first time in days, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she could breathe again.
But as she sat there, her hand still resting in Marceline's, she couldn't shake the feeling that things were far from over. There was still so much left unsaid, so many fears left unspoken. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind that whispered: What if this doesn't last?
