Two years had passed since that pivotal night at The Forge—two years filled with laughter, tears, and the quiet understanding that came from loving someone who, like you, was imperfect. Ruin and Marceline had settled into a rhythm that felt both comforting and heavy. Their small apartment was a patchwork of mismatched furniture, piles of work-related papers, and little reminders of their love—a shared mug collection, a faded poster of their favorite band, and the ever-present scent of cigarettes lingering in the air.
But the laughter had grown softer, and the shadows of their lives had deepened.
Ruin sat at the kitchen table, her brown hair messily cascading over her shoulders, strands falling into her face as she stared blankly at her laptop. The bright screen illuminated her tired features, but she felt miles away from it all. The deadlines at work seemed to stretch endlessly, the weight of them pressing down on her shoulders like an anchor in the deep. She took a deep breath, willing herself to focus, but her mind kept wandering back to the same dark thoughts that had plagued her for so long.
Across the small kitchen, Marceline was perched on the edge of the couch, scrolling through her phone with an expression that was both distant and contemplative. Her dark cherry-red hair fell over her face, hiding her dull blue eyes as she lost herself in whatever social media feed was in front of her. They hadn't spoken much since they both got home, the silence hanging thick between them like a heavy fog.
Ruin glanced up from her screen, taking in the sight of Marceline. She was still beautiful, still the person who made her heart race, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in the way she carried herself. It mirrored her own internal struggles, and the weight of it made Ruin ache.
"Marcy?" she called softly, breaking the silence.
Marceline looked up, her gaze unfocused for a moment before she seemed to realize where she was. "Hmm?"
Ruin hesitated, searching for the right words. "Do you want to... talk or something?"
Marceline offered a weak smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Not really. Just... tired, you know?"
Ruin nodded, her chest tightening. "Yeah, me too."
The truth was, they were both more than just tired. They were exhausted in ways that sleep couldn't mend. The weight of their jobs felt like a mountain, and the specter of depression loomed over them like a storm cloud that never fully cleared.
Some days were better than others, of course. They still managed to find moments of joy together, moments where they could laugh until their sides hurt or curl up on the couch and binge-watch their favorite shows. But as time went on, those moments became fewer and farther between, and the darker days seemed to overshadow everything else.
"Sometimes I feel like... I don't know," Marceline said, her voice low and hesitant. "Like I'm drowning. Like I can't catch my breath, no matter how hard I try."
Ruin felt the familiar pang in her heart as she nodded, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I feel it too," she whispered. "Every day."
They both knew they loved each other fiercely—more than either of them had ever thought possible—but love alone didn't always feel like enough. They were fighting against demons that seemed to thrive in the shadows of their minds, and sometimes, in the depths of their struggles, they both found themselves wishing for an escape, a way to quiet the pain.
"I just... I don't want to hurt anymore," Marceline confessed, her voice cracking slightly. "I don't want to feel this way."
Ruin's heart ached for her, the desperation in her words resonating deep within. "Me neither," she admitted. "But we can't... we can't give up. Not now."
Marceline looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know. But sometimes it's hard to keep going, you know? Some days, I just... I don't want to anymore."
Ruin felt a chill run down her spine at the admission, but she reached across the table, taking Marceline's hand in hers. "We've fought through so much together. You and me, Marcy. I can't lose you to this. I don't want to lose you."
Marceline squeezed her hand, her expression softening. "I don't want to lose you either. But some days, it feels like this darkness is so strong. Like it's pulling me under."
Ruin felt tears spill down her cheeks as she met Marceline's gaze, the weight of their shared pain hanging heavily between them. "We can fight it together," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "We're stronger together, remember?"
Marceline nodded, her eyes glistening. "Yeah, together."
There was a moment of silence, the weight of their words settling around them like a fragile promise. They didn't have all the answers, and the road ahead felt uncertain, but at least they had each other.
Suddenly, the sound of a car horn honking outside broke the moment, jolting Ruin back to reality. She wiped her tears away hastily, taking a deep breath as she tried to compose herself.
"Let's do something tonight," Ruin suggested, forcing a smile. "We can order takeout, watch that new series we've been meaning to check out—something to distract us, at least."
Marceline hesitated for a moment, but then a small smile tugged at her lips. "That actually sounds nice."
As Ruin stood up to grab her phone, she felt a rush of warmth flood through her. They were still suffering, still struggling, but the love they shared was a lifeline in the darkness. And as long as they had each other, maybe they could keep fighting.
Later that night, as they settled on the couch with takeout containers and the glow of the television illuminating their small living room, Ruin leaned her head against Marceline's shoulder, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. They were still navigating the shadows together, and though the darkness loomed large, they were fighting it as one.
"I love you, Marcy," Ruin murmured, her voice soft but filled with sincerity.
Marceline turned to her, a genuine smile lighting up her face, her blue eyes reflecting the warmth of the moment. "I love you too, Ruin. Always."
And in that moment, as they both nestled into each other's warmth, they made a silent promise to keep pushing through the shadows, together.
