The next few days were like walking through the aftermath of a storm. Neither Ruin nor Marceline spoke about that night at the bar—the kiss, the way Marceline had pulled her in by her tie, the raw emotion in every word and touch. But the air between them had changed, shifting into something quieter, something fragile yet unspoken.
Ruin found herself at The Forge again, like she always did after work, but this time was different. Instead of drowning in her own insecurities, she found herself thinking about Marceline—about the way she'd looked that night, vulnerable and honest, stripped down to her very core.
Maybe they were both a mess. But maybe that was okay.
Tonight, Marceline wasn't behind the bar. She was waiting for Ruin at a small table near the back, her dark cherry-red hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, her dull blue eyes focused on the cigarette in her hand. There was a calmness about her tonight that was different from the other times Ruin had seen her. No bitterness, no sharp edges. Just... acceptance.
Ruin's heart pounded in her chest as she made her way over, the familiar weight of her insecurities still hanging in the air, but they felt lighter somehow—less suffocating.
Marceline looked up as Ruin approached, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You're late," she teased, her voice soft but playful.
Ruin chuckled, her brown ears twitching nervously. "Rough day at work," she muttered, loosening her tie as she slid into the seat across from Marceline.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the quiet hum of the bar fading into the background as they watched each other, the tension that had once hung between them now replaced by something warmer, something that felt more like... understanding.
"About the other night," Ruin began, her voice hesitant, unsure how to put everything into words. "I've been thinking... and I think I've been too scared. Scared that I'll mess this up. Scared that I'm not good enough for you."
Marceline's eyes softened, her fingers playing with the cigarette between her fingers as she listened. "I know," she whispered. "I've been scared too."
Ruin blinked, surprised by the admission. Marceline had always seemed so confident, so sure of herself, even when things were tough. To hear her say that she was scared, too—it made everything feel more real. More human.
"I've spent so long convincing myself that I have to be perfect," Marceline continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "That if I'm not strong, if I don't have everything together, no one will want to stick around. But with you... I don't feel like I have to pretend."
Ruin's heart clenched at the words, her brown tail twitching nervously as she reached across the table to take Marceline's hand. "You don't," she whispered. "You never had to."
Marceline's fingers curled around hers, their touch warm and steady. "Neither do you, Ruin," she said softly. "I don't care if you're a mess. I'm not perfect either. But we don't have to be perfect to... to love each other."
Ruin's breath caught in her throat at the words. Love. It felt heavy and light all at once, like a weight lifting off her chest and settling in her heart at the same time. She had been so afraid of it, afraid of what it meant to let someone in that close. But now, sitting here with Marceline, she realized something.
She didn't have to be afraid anymore.
"Do you really think we can do this?" Ruin asked, her voice shaky but full of hope. "Even if we're both... like this?"
Marceline smiled, her blue eyes bright despite the dim lighting of the bar. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think we can."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Ruin allowed herself to smile. A real smile. One that reached her eyes and softened the lines of tension in her face. She didn't have to be perfect. Neither of them did. They were both messed up, both carrying their own scars and insecurities. But somehow, that was okay.
"I love you," Ruin whispered, the words coming out softly, but with more certainty than she had felt in a long time.
Marceline's eyes sparkled as she leaned across the table, her lips brushing lightly against Ruin's. "I love you too," she whispered back, her breath warm against Ruin's skin.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, lost in the quiet warmth of each other's presence. No more running, no more hiding. Just... them.
Finally, Marceline pulled back, her smirk returning as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter. She held it up, her eyes locking with Ruin's as she gave a playful grin. "You still smoke, right?"
Ruin chuckled, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out her cigarette. "Yeah," she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Bad habit."
Marceline didn't respond. Instead, she flicked the lighter, the small flame dancing in the dim light of the bar as she leaned in, lighting her own cigarette first before holding the lighter to Ruin's.
Ruin leaned forward, the tip of her cigarette catching the flame as she inhaled, the familiar burn of the smoke filling her lungs. But it wasn't just the cigarette that made her heart race—it was the way Marceline was looking at her, the quiet intimacy of the moment, the way everything felt... right.
As she exhaled, the smoke curling in the air between them, Marceline smirked and leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving Ruin's. "Looks like you're stuck with me now," she teased, her voice soft but full of warmth.
Ruin chuckled, taking another drag of her cigarette before reaching out to take Marceline's hand again. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
