The office was a mess of papers, deadlines, and the buzzing of phones that never seemed to stop. Ruin slumped over her desk, her head pounding from the sheer exhaustion of the day. Her mind felt like it was fraying at the edges, caught between the unbearable stress of work and the constant spiral of doubt about her relationship with Marceline.
Every time she thought about her, it was like two opposing forces pulling her apart—one part of her desperate to be closer to Marcy, and the other terrified of getting hurt.
By the time she left the office, the sun had long since set, leaving the streets bathed in the dull glow of streetlights. Ruin tugged at her tie, loosening it as she made her way to The Forge, her body heavy with exhaustion. She hadn't planned on going tonight, but something had pulled her there—a quiet, gnawing worry that she couldn't shake.
She stepped into the bar, and immediately her wolf instincts kicked in. The atmosphere felt... off. The usual calmness of the place was replaced with a strange tension. Her brown ears perked up, scanning the room, her sharp eyes landing on the far corner of the bar where Marceline usually stood.
But tonight, she wasn't behind the bar.
Marceline was slumped over one of the corner tables, a glass in hand and several empty ones scattered around her. Her cherry-red hair was disheveled, falling in loose waves around her face, and even from across the room, Ruin could tell she was drunk.
Her heart sank.
"Marcy?" Ruin called out softly as she approached the table.
Marceline looked up at her, her dull blue eyes unfocused and glassy from the alcohol. A lazy, lopsided smile spread across her lips as she took in the sight of Ruin standing there, looking worried and worn out from her own day. "Hey," Marceline slurred, her voice thick with drunkenness. "You... you're late."
Ruin's chest tightened, guilt gnawing at her. She had been so caught up in her own head, her own problems, that she hadn't even realized Marceline might be struggling too. "Rough day?" she asked quietly, sliding into the seat next to her.
Marceline laughed, the sound bitter and broken. "You could say that."
Ruin frowned, her wolf ears flattening against her head as she studied Marceline's face. There was something more behind the alcohol—something deeper, more painful. She could see it in the way Marceline's shoulders slumped, the way her usual confidence had crumbled.
"What happened?" Ruin asked softly, her hand hovering near Marceline's arm but not quite touching her. She didn't want to push, but the sight of Marceline like this... it broke her heart.
Marceline waved her hand dismissively, knocking over one of the empty glasses in the process. "Work stuff. Life stuff. I dunno. Everything's just... too much right now."
Ruin's heart ached at the sound of Marceline's voice, so vulnerable, so unlike her usual self. She wanted to help, wanted to say something that would make it better, but the words stuck in her throat. She wasn't good at this—wasn't good at comforting people, especially when she could barely hold herself together.
Marceline tilted her head, her unfocused gaze locking onto Ruin's tie. Her eyes darkened slightly, a slow, playful smirk curling at the edge of her lips. "You know," she murmured, her voice low and slurred, "you always look so good in that stupid tie."
Ruin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Marceline's tone. "W-what?" she stammered, her cheeks flushing as she looked down at her loosened tie, suddenly self-conscious.
Marceline didn't respond. Instead, with a surprising amount of coordination for someone as drunk as she was, she reached out and grabbed the front of Ruin's tie, pulling her closer with one sharp tug. Ruin's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest as she found herself inches away from Marceline's face.
The air between them crackled with tension, the closeness making Ruin's head spin. She could smell the faint traces of alcohol on Marceline's breath, mixed with the familiar scent of her perfume. It was intoxicating.
"Marcy," Ruin whispered, her voice shaky. "You're... you're drunk."
Marceline's smirk widened, her fingers still gripping the tie tightly as she leaned in even closer. "So what?" she murmured, her lips brushing against Ruin's, teasingly close. "Doesn't mean I don't know what I want."
Ruin's mind went blank, her body frozen as Marceline's words sank in. She wanted to pull away, to say something, but all she could do was sit there, her heart racing as Marceline's lips hovered dangerously close to hers.
And then, without warning, Marceline closed the distance, crashing her lips against Ruin's in a heated, desperate kiss.
Ruin gasped, her hands instinctively reaching out to steady herself as Marceline's grip on her tie tightened, pulling her even closer. The kiss was sloppy, fueled by alcohol and raw emotion, but it sent a shockwave through Ruin's entire body. She could feel the intensity of it—the need, the frustration, the exhaustion—everything Marceline had been holding back.
For a moment, Ruin let herself get lost in it. The warmth of Marceline's lips, the softness of her touch—it was everything she had secretly longed for but had been too scared to admit. She kissed her back, her body trembling with a mix of desire and fear, her tail twitching nervously behind her.
But then, reality crashed back in.
Ruin pulled away, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared at Marceline, her heart pounding in her chest. "Marcy," she whispered, her voice shaking. "We... we can't... not like this."
Marceline frowned, her grip on Ruin's tie loosening as she slumped back in her chair, her eyes glazed with alcohol and disappointment. "Why not?" she murmured, her voice barely audible. "You... you don't want me?"
Ruin's chest tightened at the question, her heart aching as she reached out to gently take Marceline's hand in hers. "I do," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I do want you, Marcy. But... not like this. Not when you're hurting."
Marceline's eyes flickered with something—hurt, maybe, or frustration—but she didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she let out a long, shaky breath, her head dropping forward as she muttered, "I'm such a mess."
Ruin's heart ached at the words, her fingers tightening around Marceline's hand as she whispered, "We both are."
For a long moment, they sat there in silence, the tension slowly ebbing away as they held each other's gaze. Ruin could still feel the heat of Marceline's kiss lingering on her lips, the memory of it burning in her mind. But more than that, she could feel the weight of the unspoken things between them—the fears, the doubts, the insecurities that neither of them had fully faced.
"I'm not going anywhere," Ruin whispered, her voice barely audible. "Even if you are a mess. Even if I am."
Marceline smiled weakly, her eyes softening as she leaned her head against Ruin's shoulder. "I guess we'll figure it out together, then."
Ruin's heart swelled at the words, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe it.
