Light -Marcel Fanfiction-

Chapter Nineteen

"Chase." Her voice is cold and steely. I give Anne a small wave, eyes on the ground. "What are you doing here?" It's been five days since I left Marcel. I cracked, I couldn't take it anymore. Well, Jason couldn't take it anymore, I started crying at the gym yesterday. He made me come try to make up, or at least apologise and try to be friends. His mum looks at me like I'm some piece of rubbish she forgot to throw out.

"I wanted to talk to Marcel," I say. She crosses her arms.

"He moved out." I take a step back, stunned. He moved out? No, this woman has got to be lying to me. I shake my head, eyebrows furrowed but she nods. "Yes, he bought the place two days ago and started moving in yesterday. He's only got a few things left but he's over there now."

"Can you give me the address?" The woman studies me. I had tried to sound sincere, really, because I am. I'm just bad at showing emotions, and really really good at hiding them from everybody else. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I don't know if he'd want that. You really hurt him," she says. "He cried for two nights, young lady," she frowns.

"I hurt myself too," I argue, "I cried too, and I don't cry. I was afraid that I would hurt him worse if we continued any longer. I just want to apologise," I plead, trying to keep the anger from my voice and to keep from cussing. She eyes my knuckles, bruised from punching the hard bag without padding. Finally she sighs and nods, writes the address on a slip of paper, and before I can leave, grabs my arm.

"Listen," she hisses, "that boy is the most innocent, sweetest I've ever known." I want to laugh and tell her of the things we've done, the things I want to teach him, but I nod.

"Yes, he is," I agree.

"You won't hurt him again," she says. I'm a bit taller than her, she's a rather short woman. She has to look up a little to look at my eyes. She looks intimidated.

"I'll try," I grin, and slip from her grasp and sprint for my car.

My stomach feels weird when I knock on the door, my already bruised knuckles protesting the rapping. The rustling of papers inside stops, and the door is opened a little. I see a green eye widen in surprise, then the rest of the door swings open. "Jocelyn," Marcel says, surprised. I go for a wide grin but end up with a half-hearted smile. He looks... I don't know how to describe it. His white button-up shirt is unbuttoned one time lower than normal, a green tie hanging around his neck loosely on either side, untied. His hair is disheveled and his glasses are streaky, there are barely-there greying circles under his eyes. He looks exhausted.

"Hi," I mumble. I'm in awe at his beauty, he's so beautiful, even though it looks like he's not slept in years. He studies my appearance, a small frown pressing into his lips.

"Hello," he says.

"Your mum gave me your address," I say, twisting my earring around in my ear.

"Oh," he says, "you went to my mum's?"

"I wanted to talk to you," I mumble. "May I come in?" He nods, still confused. He turns around and leads me in. His back is super tense, his neck looks sore. Poor baby. Boxes are strewn all over his living room, and twice as many papers on a wooden table in his kitchen. He's working, even at home. Marcel turns and leans against the table.

"What did you need to talk about?" he asks quietly.

"Did you really cry? Your mum said you did," I say. He blushes, and before he can respond, I nod. The look in his eyes confirmed it for me. "I'm sorry, Marcel, I'm sorry," I say. "Look at me, look at me," I say. His eyes meet mine. "I didn't mean to hurt you, really. I-I didn't think you liked me that much," I mumble.