What if I didn't?

Chapter Seven: Publicity

The specific news channel I named isn't being attacked in this chapter. I just chose a random station. 

(Although it is true I prefer FOX XD)

(Stars POV)

I woke up laying in Marcos arms, our lips barely an inch a part. I stretched my neck up to see the oven clock, which read 6:37 PM. I sighed and nestled my head in Marcos neck. For the moment, I felt safe, or secure even. But deep down, I was in more emotional turmoil than I ever had been before. I still felt guilty about not being able to save those kids. I had always been able to fight bad guys, but now, when it mattered most, I failed. Was I unfit to lead, if all it took was a little fear to cripple me? I looked at Marco. He would've died for me. His greatest fear was not being able to save me, but in a cruel way, my fear was that he would die for me. I didn't want to be saved, and I didn't want to cause Marco to give his own life for mine. I laid back down and tried to sleep, when suddenly, a loud knock came at the door. I sat up and looked at the door. I was filled with fear. I could feel my heart thumping against my chest, and I was breathing fast and heavy. I looked at Marco. He was still asleep. I sat for a few seconds, before I stood up and grabbed my crutch. There was nothing to be afraid of. I walked to the door as a second round of knocking began. I opened the door to see a very short man in a collared shirt with a microphone, and a second man aiming a camera at me. I looked at the curb and saw a van with "CNN" in bright red on the side. "Hello, are you-" he looked at his papers, "Star Butterfly?" "Y-yes." I said unsurely. I knew what CNN was, but I didn't know why this guy was here. What did he want? "I'd like to ask you some questions about the horrible tragedy you were a part of. That okay?" I glanced back at Marco, who was still asleep. "S-sure." "Great!" He had a huge smile, a bit unnerving in it's size. How was this dude that happy, given the topic of conversation? "So how are you feeling?" I looked at him in surprise. How did he think I was feeling? "Well, I feel horrible, obviously." I glanced at the red blinking dot above the camera. "And how long were you in the gym before the shooter entered?" Weird question, I thought. Why did he care about that? "Well, I would say about 15 minutes, but I don't really see what that-" "And is it true you have a magic wand that can cast spells?" He cut me off. I frowned. "Yeah, but why do-" "And you use these spells to battle monsters and enemies, yes?" Again he interrupted. "Yes, but what does that-" "And do you know any, ah, protective spells? Or defensive ones?" I stopped in shock at the question. What the hell  was he getting at? "Well, yeah I do know quite a few like that..." "Mhmm, and why didn't you use them?" My heart stopped. I felt the cold ice of guilt and shame grip my chest. "W-w-what do you m-mean?" I stammered furiously. "I mean, you're a warrior princess, why didn't you stop one guy? You know kids died, right? Why didn't you try and help them?" I could feel myself die inside. I went over the edge. This was what was haunting my thoughts, what always would. I should've helped, and now that this guy had figured that out, soon others would, and maybe it would be the Diaz family, maybe I'd have to leave, maybe- maybe- "Got an answer sweetheart?" The question drew me back to reality. I realized I was crying. "Well my wand is connected to my emotions, so maybe that's why I didn't." "So you mean you didn't care enough?" "No, no no no, I mean I felt fear, and that made the wand sorta shut down, I don't really understand it-" "So you, an inter dimensional warrior with magic powers, who has battled inhuman monsters, were too afraid for your own life to save the lives of your friends from one human?" "No, I mean I really wasn't able to, but I really wish I could've!" I was sobbing now. "Please, no more questions, I really-" "Oh, so now it's a secret?" "No, I-" "So the world doesn't get to know why you didn't save those kids lives?" "No, it's just-" "What would you say to those kids PARENTS if they were here?!" I let out a wail of despair and anguish, and suddenly I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, and Marco pulled me into his chest. "Shhhhh, it's alright, I'm here. Don't worry, you're fine" I cried into his chest and ran one hand through his hair. The reporter cleared his throat. Marco turned to him with a look of utter contempt, disgust, and hatred in his eyes. I'd never seen him so fired up. "What the hell are you still doing here, you asshole? She was sobbing, begging you to stop asking questions, and you kept getting worse and worse. What is wrong with you?" The reporter sneered at him. "Oh look, it's the hero. Not much of a hero to the dead kids are you?" Marco looked at him in rage. "Why are you doing this? Is a good story really worth this? Get off my porch, you slimy little rodent." "Oh, but I don't think I was done questioning the princess-" And then he tried to force the door open, and in doing so hit me very hard in the leg with the door. I screamed and crumpled, hot pain shooting up my leg. Marco crouched down and wrapped his arms around me, quickly kissing me before going to pull me up. As he did, we both heard the reporter whisper to his colleague: "Get this on camera!" Marco very quickly set me down, and what happened next, I almost missed, it was all so fast. Marco spun around faster than a top and slapped the microphone out of the reporters hand, then proceeded to deliver a strong right hook to his face, breaking his nose. He then took the camera and sound system and broke it against the pavement. He pulled the reporter up by his collar, and through gritted teeth said "Get. Out. NOW." before shoving him into the cameraman. He then took the remains of the equipment, and threw it towards their van, but he was sure to remove the tape first and pocket it. He slammed the door shut, locked it, closed all the blinds, and then collapsed against me on the floor. I grabbed him and sobbed. He picked me up and carried me up to my room and set me down in my bed, before sitting down on the front of it. "Star." I couldn't pay attention to him, I was sobbing too hard. "Star" He put both his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. I quieted down a bit and looked at him, still crying. "Star, I want you to listen to me. Everything that man said, forget it. He was a news reporter trying to maximize a story, and in doing so he thought it would be a more interesting story if he made you look bad. He's wrong. Anyone who buys that, including yourself, is wrong. You're the most beautiful girl I know, inside and out, and you would never let anyone die if you could help it. He wasn't there, he doesn't know you. I was, and I do. You did all you could've. You and I are lucky to be alive, we shouldn't be ungrateful that we were granted that chance. I promise, nothing will hurt us anymore, and no one will believe whatever bull that guy publishes. I know you, and I love you." I looked him in the eye, still sniffling a bit, but not sobbing. "Okay?" He smiled at me. "Okay." I rested my head on his shoulder. Suddenly the door bell rang. We sat up. It couldn't be that guy again, right? We both looked puzzled, until Marcos eyes flew wide open, and he exclaimed, "MOM AND DAD!" I sighed in relief as he picked me up, kissed me, and carried me down stairs like a flash. I grabbed the crutch and he opened the door. Mr and Mrs. Diaz stood there, looking 100% exhausted, but still filled their faces with love when they saw us. They pulled us into their arms. "Oh, Mio, thank you so much. How are you both?" I looked at Marco. He said to his dad, "Well, it's been a little rough, but we're- we're alright." "Good, good. We're going right to sleep, and you should as well. It will help, I promise." I was to exhausted not to agree, and so was Marco. We both went upstairs, and after I (finally) gave him back the hoodie, we went to sleep.

(12:53 AM, Stars POV)

I woke up and looked at the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. What woke me up? I decided to go back to sleep. Suddenly, I heard a sound of pure anguish from Marcos room. It wasn't yelling, but it was louder than your average "inside-voice". I got up, grabbed the crutch, and went to his room. I opened the door, and saw Marco, still asleep, sitting forward in bed, crying furiously. I went to him and took his hands in mine, and sat with my legs over his, bare skin on bare skin, and kissed him hard as I could. I felt my own tears start, and mix with his. It was my turn to help him now. He woke up and kissed me back, putting his hands on my back. When we pulled away, he buried his head in his hands and cried. "It's just so awful, and I don't know why it happened. People died, and I don't get it." He said. I didn't know what to say. I agreed, completely. I put his hands in mine and made him look at me. "I-I just keep seeing the gym, and imagining I couldn't save you, and I-I-I-" I cut him off with a kiss. I looked at him again, tears in both our eyes. I wiped his away. "Marco, you did something incredibly brave for me, something that only a few people would do for me. You can't dwell on what would happen if you didn't. What matters is you did, and we're okay." He nodded, wiped my tears off me, and put his head into my shoulders. "We're okay," he said to himself and me. I held back tears as I noticed, in the absence of a shirt, the long and horrible wound the bullet had caused. I reached out for it. When my fingers found it, he didn't flinch away. He looked at me grimly and just nodded. "That's where he got me." I put my head on his shoulder and traced my finger along the wound. I felt his hand travel down my side, over my underwear, and to my own wound. I shuddered for numerous reasons, some not so bad. He trace his fingers over the first few stitches very softly, so as not to cause pain. I managed a smile and looked at him. "You know, normally if you touch me like that, it means we're probably in a much happier mood." He laughed immediately, and so did I. As our laughter died, he pulled his hand up to the bottom of my underwear, slowly creeping his hand underneath it, onto my backside, the other hand he used to pull me into a kiss and lay me back onto of him in his bed. I moved my hands to his face, and to his bear chest, and then he moved a hand under my shirt and did the same. I kissed him full of passion, and as he slipped a thumb inside the elastic of my underwear, and his other fingers on the clasp of my bra, my shirt long gone, I could almost put the thoughts inspired by the reporter out of my mind...

Almost.

(Marcos POV)

 I woke up to Star pressed against me, her face an inch from mine. We did't get to wild last night, as indicated A) My pants at least remained on, and B) My parents hadn't skinned me alive or sold me to a circus. I watched as Star awoke, looked around, and smiled a bit. She kissed me, but as she stole my hoodie (AGAIN) and sweatpants, I saw in her eyes that not all was settled. She was still in serious emotional turmoil. Hell, we all were. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek. She smiled at me again, but I could still see pain in her eyes. I held her head to my chest, while the radio, which Star had obviously turned on, played Princes' Raspberry Beret. I took her hands in mine and placed her bad foot on top of mine, and danced with her, a bit slower than the song, but she still burst into laughter and put one hand on my side. "Remember the last time we did this?" She said with a laugh. I remembered an angry demon ex-boyfriend, an anger-management coach, and a weird sense of closeness to Star after we danced under the red light of the moon. "Oh, I remember." I said with a chuckle. I pulled her into a dip, and kissed her, and quickly spun out of it as the sound of "Kids! Pancakes!" echoed from downstairs. I scooped her into my arms and dashed downstairs. I looked into her eyes, and didn't see the sadness from before. Job well done, Diaz, I thought as I sat her down next to me at the table.

So that's Chapter Seven, pretty good if I do-say-so-myself, and sorry about no updates over the last week or two, I was actually on the other side of the world with a band, spreading Jazz to the people of Vietnam and Dubai! (That's what the poster says.) I will try to update more again soon, also check out my "Starco One-shots" I started. 

P.S. RIP Prince, whose death anniversary is Friday.