Regrets

Chapter 26 - Out Of My Head

Song: Out Of My Head - John Newman

Marcus looked back at the police station behind him. They had held him in there for two days, asking him the same repetitive questions over and over again, but in the end, had let him go because of insufficient evidence.

"I won't come and pick you up again next time! How could you beat up a kid? A kid?!", James was furious now. The man truly was a morale apostle, through and through. And a hypocrite on top of that.

"They couldn't even prove it was me, why do you have to be such a little bitch about it?", Marcus defended with a snort, finally sick of the constant preaching and berating. James was acting like he was going around and beating up people for no reason. Not that Marcus didn't do that, too, but this time there was a reason at least.

The leg in front of him came out of nowhere, and the black man promptly stumbled over it, flopping onto the hard concrete lengthwise, his head hitting it with no cushioning from any of his limbs as he reacted too late.

"I know-", James started out, dragging out his words and leaving in a dramatic pause. His speeches and acting always were on point. "- you did. So why?"

Marcus slowly sat up on the sidewalk, rubbing his bloody nose as he threw a look to where his face had imprinted itself into the sidewalk with blood. His head hurt, the fall had been far from soft or gentle. As always, there was this odd look on James face whenever he hurt Marcus. A look that was neither hard nor sympathetic yet those were always the only words that came to mind when looking at the blond.

"She tried to pick my wallet, that brat", Marcus admitted after a few seconds, too captured by his best friend's out of place expression.

"I won't come and pick you up again next time", James stated again, much less aggressive but rather resigned now. He held out his hand for Marcus to take and pull himself up but Marcus didn't comply.

"There won't be a next time. She's back with her parents now", he grumbled as he pushed himself off the ground, dusting off his pants.

His eyes tore away from the dreaded sight, leaving the building behind as he began walking. He knew this wouldn't be the end of it, though. Now they had it in for him.

However, the police was one of his last concerns as of right now. After all, his future in the work industry and therefore his livelihood were at stake.

His steps didn't lead him to his apartment. That was by far the last place he wanted to be. Not only did he not want to have to deal with the kid, but much more than that, he didn't want to go to the place where he was no doubt to most likely relive more old memories. Unconsciously, his hand reached up to scratch a sudden itch on his nose.

James had broken it so many times.

Marcus shook his head to derail his train of thought like a horse trying to ward of flies. Fuck.

Hoping a change of scenery would ease his busy mind even just a little, and even more to get himself informed on his current work status, he made his way to the nearest phone booth. Tiredly, he lifted his hand to use his last money to dial the only number he knew by heart. In his head, he began counting the seconds that went by as he waited for someone to pick up.

"Cabera?", was the first and only word uttered when the other line finally picked up after twenty-seven seconds.

"Hey Lou", Marcus must have sounded just as defeated as he felt, because Louis' next words mirrored the image of pure concern and worry.

"Hey Marc! What's wrong, where were you the last two days? Boss couldn't reach you and got furious! She called your number about a hundred times but when you picked up-"

"Lou. I was in custody the last two days. I didn't pick up any phones", Marcus interrupted in attempts of dispersing the narration Louis was trying to spin.

"I thought you wouldn't pull any shit anymore? So then who was as your house?", Louis sounded a lot more collected than Marcus would have expected, but it was a welcome surprise. Maybe he was too used to James' outbreaks.

"Remember the kid?", Marcus offered a hint and Louis made a sound of understanding, like it was an everyday thing to be a host to strangers' kids.

"Can you let me stay at yours today?", Marcus finally asked the question that was the reason for his call.

"Mhnm, my girlfriend is staying but you sound like you really need a friend", Louis agreed after a short pause. Louis was by far the only person that willingly called himself Marcus' friend. Even though Marcus would refer to James as his best friend in thoughts, the words had never uttered between them. Who knew what James had secretly thought of Marcus?

"Thanks", and with that, Marcus hung up, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his worn out windbreaker. His feet began leading the way to Louis apartment.

Louis was an emphatic person, maybe even more so than James had been. Maybe a talk was really what he needed, if Louis said so.