love bites » marcelee.

8: Humble Abode (Part 1)

Chapter Eight: Humble Abode (Part One)

When Marceline felt a sneeze coming, she pinched her nose, then looked up at the sky, letting the rain pinprick her face like a thousand needles. Even after they got to the trail where the motorcycle was on, she was constantly glancing over her shoulder to see if the mysterious dark hooded figure was anywhere back in sight.

Marshall noticed her odd behavior. "What exactly did you see that got you so badly shaken?"

She looked disdainfully at him. Hadn't he been listening to a single word she was screaming back there? "I don't wanna talk about it right now." she asserted, zipping up and snugging the leather jacket tighter around her body.

"If you say so."

He picked up the helmet from the seat (which was still in fine condition), pushed the wet raven locks out of her face and gently secured it on her head. She was a bit taken aback by his sudden chivalry but didn't question it as she gladly acquiesced his request for her to get on the bike.

Marshall revved up the engine and Marceline braced her hands on his waist. However, he took her hands in a firm clasp and made her fully hug him from behind instead. She was pressed against his cold, toned body and luckily the helmet covered the budding blush on her face.

"We're headin' to my place, whether ya like it or not." he insisted and kicked the bike into gear. "And for Glob's sake, don't jump off again."

As they rode, the rush of cold air nipped at her skin. Relying on Marshall's body for some kind of warmth was a huge letdown. But in the coldness of it all, she felt a bit more at ease when they finally emerged from the woods and travelled on the road.

Apparently Marshall's house was located remote from the neighborhood. The weather wasn't at all forgiving either, making the entire journey a freezing one until they finally reached there. His house resembled a typical suburban home; it was light grey with a black roof and was surrounded by a white fence. There were hardly any other houses nearby which made his home all the more isolated.

"You gonna stand there all day or what?"

Marceline, who stood frozen numb under the heavy rain staring at the three-cupolaed house, snapped out of her thoughts and forced her legs to move to the front door where Marshall stood. He then saw the slightly uncomfortable and doubtful look on her face.

"There's no one else here." he reassured her, as if he could read her mind. "I practically live alone."

"O-Okay." she uttered and slipped into the house after him before shutting the door behind her.

"Make yourself at home." Marshall flicked a switch, lighting up the whole living room.

The interior of his house wasn't that huge, but it was kind of commodious, considering that he lived here all by himself. Sure, there were furnitures; a couch, table lamp, a few framed photos and candles mounted on the wall, etcetera. But no television? From what Marceline could see, there was a kitchen at the end of the room. There was also an amplifier nearby.

"Hmm."

There was a ladder on the wall next to the amp, leading up to whatever was upstairs. Funny how this house didn't have a staircase.

"The bathroom's upstairs. Just climb up that ladder and you'll see it." Marshall pointed out.

So Marceline steadily ascended the ladder which led to a bedroom, connected to a bathroom. There's a sofa at a nearby corner and look, there's the television in front of it. But she didn't spend anymore time looking over Marshall's bedroom as she went straight into the bathroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror and cringed inwardly at her conspicuously unaesthetic reflection. Her hair was wet in disarray and her eyeliner was smudged, lining her face. She turned on the faucet and washed her face. She sneezed and heard shuffling outside then saw Marshall by the doorway with a towel and some folded clothing in his hand.

"Here," he handed them to her. "It's all I could find for you. Just leave your clothes in there." he gestured toward a laundry basket in a corner. "And don't take too long."

Then he went back downstairs, leaving Marceline alone with her thoughts. It was unusual of him to be nice. Shrugging it off, she locked the bathroom door and not long later, she dipped herself into the water-filled bathtub.

After several minutes, she stepped out barefooted, wearing one of Marshall's rock shirts and his outgrown pair of basketball shorts. Boy, did she feel refreshed after a bath. She didn't mind the shirt being a little big; she felt comfortable wearing slightly oversized shirts.

Marshall was probably still downstairs, so Marceline took the chance to explore his bedroom. She ambled around and couldn't help but notice that there was actually a little recording studio in this room, which was pretty cool.

What really caught her attention though, was the red instrument next to the recording devices, leaned against the wall. It looked like...an ax, but at the same time it appeared to be a guitar. In a state of wonder and curiosity, she decided to inspect it.

"What're you doin'?" Marshall's voice sounded and she saw him climbing up the ladder and throwing his phone onto the bed as he came up to her.

"Dude, is this your guitar?" Marceline inquired, holding up the red instrument. It was a guitar with a blade on only one side. "Where did you get it?"

"I didn't buy it." he told her and when he was met with her raised quizzical eyebrow, he proceeded to explain further. "Believe it or not, it was originally an ax, and my family's heirloom, but I converted it into an electric guitar."

"Awesome."

"Yeah. Now quit touchin' it." he demanded, walking over to his closet to get a towel.

"Okay, fine." she rolled her eyes and carefully placed the instrument back to where it was before and crossed her arms defiantly. "I didn't know you were a musician."

Marshall chuckled. "Darlin', there's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Whatever." Marceline narrowed her eyes at his deliberately ambiguous reply. She dropped her hands to her sides then reached out for his phone on the bed. "Anyway, my phone's dead and I need to call my Dad to tell him I've been kidnapped."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." he said sarcastically. "Use it all you want. And don't get any ideas about running away while I'm in here. Especially not in this rainstorm." he warned, going into the bathroom.

Well, for once, he was right about the weather. She sighed. When he was out of sight, she jumped on the bed and dialed her father's number, waiting nervously.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dad. It's Marceline."

"Oh, hey, Marceline!"

"Yeah, uh... I'm kinda stuck at my friend's house at the moment 'cause of the storm."

"Oh, do you need me to pick you up? Because you left your car back home."

"Nah, it's okay, Dad. I think I'll just spend the night here. So uh, you don't have to wait up for me."

"Sure thing, sweetie."

"Yeah...okay, bye."

And Marceline hung up. Phew. She placed the phone on the bedside table and laid down, the coolness and comfort of the bed enveloping her. But she didn't want to sleep just yet. Hence she got up and started exploring Marshall's bedroom once again.