Savage Love || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chaoter 125

Blair's POV

There were warm days in Detroit, and then there were this kind of warm days—the kind that made you forget about the brutal winters, with sunshine that felt like it could melt away more than just snow. It was exactly the kind of day Colson wouldn't let me waste indoors, dragging me out of the house with a dramatic sigh about how I needed to stop "brooding." He wasn't wrong.

We were sitting outside at one of our usual spots, a small café tucked in a corner of the city, shaded by a couple of tall trees. Despite the laid-back setting, Colson looked like he'd stepped straight off the set of a music video—ripped jeans that probably cost more than they should, sunglasses perched low on his nose, hair perfectly disheveled like he'd spent hours getting it to look like he hadn't tried at all. Honestly, it was hard not to laugh.

"You could at least pretend this is lunch and not your 'I got dressed in the dark' chic," I teased, tilting my head toward his outfit.

Colson placed a hand over his chest with exaggerated offense. "Wow, B. That cuts deep. Here I thought you dragged me out for my company, not to roast me."

"Your company's fine," I said, shrugging. "But your wardrobe? It's like Hot Topic threw a clearance sale just for you."

He laughed, pushing his sunglasses down enough to give me a playful glare. "You roast my style, but deep down, you know you'd be lost without my influence. Admit it—Hot Topic is your spirit store."

I snorted, shaking my head. "You're lucky I'm here to keep your ego in check. If it weren't for me, that god complex of yours would run wild."

"God complex?" Colson raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Pretty sure that title's reserved for your husband. Marshall's been bullying the whole industry since before either of us had facial hair."

"Not that bad," I replied, grinning despite myself.

Colson gave me a look like I'd just said something ridiculous. "Blair, the man's been running the game like a final boss for over twenty years. He might as well set up a throne in the middle of Detroit."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "You're not still salty about him tearing into you back in the day, are you?"

"Salty? Nah. If I had a dollar for every time someone said Marshall was a bully, I'd... well, let's just say I'd be living in a nicer place," he said with a grin. "But he's lucky to have you around to soften those rough edges."

"I try," I said, shrugging. "But even I can't save him from being... you know, him."

Colson leaned in with mock seriousness. "You've got your work cut out for you, B. But someone's gotta make sure he doesn't completely terrorize the next generation."

I laughed, feeling the tension I'd been carrying around for days start to dissolve, if only a little. That was Colson's gift—he always managed to pull me out of my head, no matter how heavy things got.

"How's he really doing, though?" Colson asked, his voice softening as he shifted the conversation to the one thing that weighed on both of us.

I fiddled with the fork in my hand, picking at the edge of my salad. "He's fine. He's keeping it together, but I can see how anxious he is. He just doesn't like showing it."

Colson nodded, leaning back in his chair, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. "Makes sense. You guys have a lot riding on this. But you know, if anyone can handle this shit, it's you and Marshall."

I appreciated the sincerity in his tone. Colson could joke all day, but when it mattered, he knew how to dial it back and be present.

"I know," I sighed. "But the waiting, the constant feeling like something's going to go wrong... it's just exhausting."

Colson sat forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at me, his usual cockiness replaced by something gentler. "You don't have to carry it alone, B. You've got Marshall. You've got me. You've got people who've got your back."

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat as his words hit me harder than I expected. "I know. I just... I hate always having to be the strong one."

"You don't always have to be," Colson said, his voice soft but firm. "It's okay to let go. That's why we're here—to remind you it's okay to fall apart sometimes. We've got you."

I blinked quickly, fighting back the sudden tightness in my chest. "Thanks. I needed that."

Colson grinned, leaning back again, the playful light returning to his eyes. "Hey, that's what I'm here for. Besides, I can't let you sit around wallowing. That's Marshall's job."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You're probably the only person I know who isn't scared of him."

"Oh, I'm scared," Colson said with a smirk. "I just don't let him see it. You fake it till you make it, B."

"Keep dreaming," I teased. "Maybe one day he'll go easy on you."

"Doubt it," Colson muttered, grinning. "He's gotta keep me in check. Can't have me stealing his spotlight."

"He's got bigger things to worry about."

We slipped into easier conversation after that, Colson's banter helping me unwind. By the time we finished eating, I felt lighter, like I could finally breathe again.

As we stood up to leave, Colson stretched dramatically. "So, back to babysitting Mr. Weird Beard?"

I snorted, shaking my head. "Pretty much. Someone's gotta keep him grounded, and it's a full-time job."

"You're a saint," he said, throwing his arm around my shoulders as we made our way toward the parking lot. "I'd have bailed years ago."

"You're lucky I didn't give up on you," I shot back, nudging him.

"Nah, you love me," he said, flashing his signature grin. "Just don't tell Marshall. I don't need him thinking I'm a fan."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Trust me, he's got bigger problems than you."

As we reached my car, I pulled out my phone and shot Marshall a quick text.

Me: "Just finished up with Colson. Heading home."

His reply came almost immediately.

Marshall: "Good. See you soon, Satan."

I tucked my phone back into my bag, smiling at the familiar nickname. Even though Marshall was carrying the same weight I was, he never failed to throw in a bit of humor to keep me grounded.

Colson walked me to my car, grinning. "Tell Marshall I said hi. And remind him I'm still waiting on that rematch—though he's probably too busy writing an album about it."

I laughed, unlocking the door. "He probably is. I'll remind him you're still alive after the last round."

Colson raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Barely. Dude's got more beef than a steakhouse."

I rolled my eyes. "You love it."

"Yeah, yeah, just don't let him know I said that," Colson added, his tone playful as he gave me a quick hug. "Can't have him thinking I'm a fan."

As he turned to leave, he tossed one last line over his shoulder. "And don't forget—next time, I'm winning that rematch. Whether it's beef or bars."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Keep dreaming, Colson."

As I drove home, I felt lighter, like a bit of the weight I'd been carrying had lifted. Colson had always known how to bring me back to myself, reminding me that I didn't have to carry everything alone. Even if he and Marshall would forever push each other's buttons, they both made sure I was okay in their own ways.

But even with their support, I still found myself holding my breath, waiting for something that felt entirely out of my control.