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10: Frenemies

Chapter Ten: Frenemies

10:47 p.m.

That was the time, according to Marceline's charged phone (which miraculously survived the rain). She couldn't sleep. As a matter of fact, she didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to see the mysterious dark figure in her dreams again. It perturbed her more than any horror movie could because it was reality. So she just laid in bed like the sick person she was and waited.

In her head, she kept replaying the little conversation she had with Marshall earlier. He had called his Mom a wretch. Were they on bad terms? Was that why he lived alone? And what about his Dad? He said he never knew him. She could only imagine how hard it was for him growing up without a father. But then again, she could somehow relate to that too. A small part of her hoped that he would've at least had a father figure like she did.

Marceline wrapped the blankets tighter around her and let out a weak cough. Marshall wasn't back yet, and only Glob knew where he had gone to. He had taken off just like that. Right after the both of them disclosed something about their family background. She closed her eyes and sighed.

The sound of an engine revving jolted her awake from the brink of sleep. Seconds later, she heard the faint sound of the door slamming, indicating that Marshall was back. When he didn't come up, she started to feel a little uneasy. But then, a while later, she smelled something in the air. The aroma lingered long in her nostrils. It smelled like...chicken soup?

It wasn't long until Marceline found herself sitting up on the bed next to Marshall, dipping the spoon into the bowl of hot liquid food and lifting it to her lips. The heated chicken soup left a burning sensation on her tongue, and it warmed her insides, the taste evoking her nostalgia. It never crossed her mind that he would make the effort to go out and find some 24/7 convenience store to get her what she needed.

Marshall fished out something from his pocket and gave it to Marceline. "In case that doesn't work, I got you some meds."

"Uh, thanks," she thanked him with a dubious look on her face. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I just don't want a sick person in my house." he asserted, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.

Marceline smiled. "You're not so bad, you know."

"Not so bad?" Marshall scoffed. "Please, it's not something I have to try at."

She took a couple sips of her soup. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you always get into fights at school?" she asked blatantly.

Marshall made a 'hmph' sound before replying, "Why do you care? Everyone just assumes that I'm the bad guy whenever they see me beat the crap out of someone when in actuality, they deserve what's coming for them. And what do I get in return for doing them a favor? Nothin' good."

He crossed his arms. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm not there to be anyone's hero, and I'm not sorry for the damages I've caused."

Marceline kept quiet, trying to process what he had just said. If she'd realized earlier, if she'd truly observed from the beginning, she would've known that the people he had beaten up all those times weren't good guys, either. They've all done despicable things, and Marshall was only there to give them a taste of their own medicine. Unfortunately, that wasn't what most of the goody-two-shoes students and the authoritative figures at school saw.

"Well," she spoke up. "I know what it's like to try to do somethin' good, but then for some reason people just pass you off as someone bad, and won't even look twice at you. It gets frustrating to the point where you don't care what others say anymore, so you just do what you wanna do. If you're gonna be labeled as bad, then whatever."

Truth be told, Marshall was quite surprised by what Marceline had said. He thought that no one would ever understand him at all, but she just proved him wrong. Maybe she did get him just a little.

"Heh," he grinned and sat up cross-legged to face her. "That's kinda how I feel too."

She shrugged coyly then continued to gulp down her soup.

"You're probably right. I guess we are kinda alike," he pursed his lips. "Just to add on, do you play music?"

Finally, a casual topic, Marceline thought to herself. "Well, I sing and rock out with my bass guitar."

Marshall raised an eyebrow in interest. "You sing, huh? You should let me hear you someday."

"Not by a long shot, Lee." she smirked.

He let out a short laugh. "You know somethin'? As much as I hate to say this, considerin' I'm a lone wolf kinda guy... I think people like us just gotta stick together."

"Hmm. Maybe, I guess," she looked down for a second before meeting his gaze again. "So...what? Are we like friends or something now?"

"Let's just settle as...no longer enemies," Marshall extended his hand out to her. "That way, we won't end up killing each other."

"Yeah, I can agree on that." Marceline clasped his hand firmly. "Frenemies?"

"Frenemies."

And so they shook on it.