The Dynamics of Primitivity || A Whizzvin Fanfiction

Fluorescent Epiphanies || Chapter Five

Marvin's too familiar with strange epiphanies.

There's the sweet ones, where he realizes he's in love. Heartbreaking ones, where he realizes he isn't quite who he thought he was -- or pretended to be.

However, the weird -- but brokenly funny ones -- becomes more frequent. Unfortunately.

He finds himself seated on the cracking cement outside of Denny's, staring blankly at the parking lot, equipped with a drunk smile intending to disappoint. A gross beer in his hand. 2 AM. Marvin Wells, the sophisticated stage manager and professional stuck-up, laughs dryly. He leans for another sip.

There's something extraordinarily amusing about being at the worst point in your life. When rock bottom is truly attained, the "uphill climb" is not even being considered. Marvin can't help but find it funny how much of a mess he's become.

It breaks his heart, but he can only force himself to laugh at the remains.

The chime of the squeaky bell atop the front door summons a glance of his eyes. Wells can't help but be curious who's in Denny's at 2 AM -- perhaps someone as brokenly amused as him.

His eyes immediately grow wide and he tries to hide his face. Marvin recognizes the tight, dark khakis. Jamie.

Admittedly, he's been trying to avoid him. Everything they do feels so empty now. Of course, Wells feels guilty, but not guilty enough to just sever the relationship, like a man.

"Marvin?"

Fuck. Just pretend you're drunker than you are. That's a free pass, right?

"H-Hi!" Fake hiccup. Slur your words. "Jamieee!"

Jamie's expression doesn't falter. Not even to amusement.

"Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

"Oh, heh, did I forget to tell you?" He moves his mouth lazily. Marvin wonders if he's even forming comprehensible sentences. "I lost my phone."

Jamie grabs at him. Before his mind could comprehend it, he had snatched his phone from him and presents it in a disgusted manner.

Marvin just stares. Drunk and dumb.

He inhales sharply, both with a hint of sadness and with frustration, "We're through, Wells."

Marvin's phone is thrown at the Denny's cement wall. It breaks. So does he.

Jamie storms off and Wells is left to laugh bitterly at his shattered device. He's far too drunk to drive. How is he supposed to get home?

He does something so unbelievably ridiculous. He begins his walk to Roseview.

---

Unsurprisingly, there is a rehearsal going on when he stumbles in. Directors just love overworking their insomniac actors.

The first face he sees is Whizzer's. He nearly sobs at the sight.

Wells heads to the bathroom to sort himself out. The man in the mirror is someone he doesn't recognize. Someone he'd see in health class as a kid. A desperate, lonely addict. A person who has never truly known what success is and what it's like to feel whole. Someone greedy and so destroyed with selfishness that every other person is an afterthought. Marvin hates every part of himself.

Then he notices the ex-lover's figure over his shoulder. He smiles with bittersweetness.

Except that part of himself. That's his favorite part.

"I brought you some water to, y'know, sober up," Whizzer tries to sound casual as he hands over the fragile, paper cup. "Got it from concession."

He forgot how much he misses his voice. "Thank you, Whizzer," Somehow, the name feels foreign on his tongue. New hope. "God, thank you so much."

"I know how it can feel to have a rough night alone," he chuckles with the same dryness present in Marvin's tone.

Wells smiles. He looks at him with new eyes. There's an unexplainable beauty he sees in the fluorescent lights of that small bathroom in their community theatre. Then another smile -- brighter, this time.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Brief silence.

"Do you have a ride home?"

Marvin laughs. "Honestly -- I thought my best bet was to sleep at the theatre tonight, so, no. I don't."

---

The car drive was not awkward, surprisingly.

It was mostly silent. Andrew Hozier croons over the speakers. No words were exchanged. But when emptiness is illuminated by a bright crescent and orchestrated with sweet background music -- all at once, it becomes so much more.

But now Whizzer slows to a stop outside, and Marvin finds himself not wanting to leave.

"Thank you so much Whizzer. God, you're wonderful." He can think a little clearly now, but he still has the stupid impulses that he was born with. A particularly stupid impulse begs for his attention, though -- for his submission. So he gives in.

He delicately reaches over to hold Whizzer's face. He seems so touch-starved. Just like him.

Slowly, as if asking for permission, Marvin leans in for a kiss. Hozier's voice still hums melodious encouragement over the speakers.

Their kiss is timid and charming. Slowly, as if relishing and re-remembering each other's touch.

His bed is twice as warm that night. In the morning, too.

But it isn't like the morning with Jamie. It's warm, sweet, and feels normal somehow -- the only taste of normal Marvin's ever experienced. Waking up to Whizzer feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Marvin experiences his most important strange epiphany. He stares at the boy glued to his chest, illuminated by the fingertips of sunshine through their window blinds. Wells smiles at the river of drool on his chest and the messy, staticky hair of his dreams.

That despite his broken imperfections and his inevitable journey to betterment, Marvin was born to love Whizzer.

+++

End.