i know he wasn't around in the 80's but please bear with me
a lil angsty but you'll appreciate the ending, i promise
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every night fucks every day up
everyday patches the night up
oh god you should match it it's that KO
no white lighters til i fuck my 28th up
you hummed to the music softly playing from the stereo and hugged your knees closely to your chest. it was after eleven o'clock on a school night but everyone decided to congregate on the roof and taste petra's homemade moonshine.
everyone was heading back to the dorms except you. your friends patted your head and said their 'goodnights' to you and left you huddled next to the makeshift fire. you saw a mop of curly hair out of the corner of your eye and the second you realized he looked like he was going to head out, your mouth took over:
"wait, marcus?" you called out.
he immediately stopped in his tracks and you could hear alcohol slosh back and forth in the plastic cup. had he not even been drinking?
"can you hang back? just for a little while--" your voice trailed off as he sat back down. this time he sat criss cross applesauce next to you and watched as you sparked a joint. he rested his head on your shoulder and his sweatshirt sleeve grazed your bare thigh.
where'd that even come from, he thought as he watched the flame flicker.
but it's not like he was complaining.
"i can't believe billy and petra. it's so surprising, they're like close friends," you threw your head back and blew a cloud of smoke before passing the joint to marcus
you weren't complaining about petra's new found love interest, not really. it surprised you is all. you never dated anyone yourself, and you knew it was because you were afraid. of disappointment. betrayal. vulnerability. commitment. it was no wonder you were claustrophobic.
"what, you never thought about us" he said, his voice suddenly serious. he looked into your eyes, and you instantly read his expression. you knew what was coming next, and you feel as though you've dreaded it your whole life.
when you asked your best friend to hang back, you wanted to smoke a joint with him, not define/acknowledge your atypical relationship.
"no, no" you shook your head as your heart sped up hurriedly.
"it's no use, _____" he stood up and you followed suit, knocking a beach chair over.
"don't" your face was one of panic.
"we gotta have it out" his voice was a mix of anger and desperation. his hand expressions erratic as he followed you, trying so hard to keep your gaze on his instead of avoiding it.
"no-"
"I have loved you ever since i've known you. i couldn't help it. i tried to show you and you wouldn't let me"
you creased your face, bracing. bracing for him to continue to profess his love for you, and pour salt in the wound, and twist the knife in your heart.
"but i must make you hear now and give me an answer because i cannot go on like this!" his eyes welled up with tears, tears of anger, disappointment, and sheer emotion. this was an inevitable moment, and you as well, were scared to death.
he's your best friend
his face got closer to yours and his breath was absent of the scent of beer or moonshine. these were sober thoughts.
"i realize i'm not half good enough and i'm not this great man-"
images flashed before of the things he referred to, killing rory and billy's dad.
"no! yes you are. you are too good for me and I'm just so proud of you-"
"why cant you say yes. why cant you say yes?" he stopped abruptly and you ran into his chest.
he was angry. you reached your hands for his face. you'd usually walk into his arms and caress his face and softly stroke the bruises looming beneath his cheek bones.
"don't fucking touch me" he stepped back and your heart broke.
you need to be connected to him. his touch protects you. he's your best friend. you love him, but you're afraid to be with him.
"you're too good for me. i-i am mean, i am stubborn, i am scared, marcus!" you searched for every excuse. "we are best friends! I cant imagine something ruining this with a label. i love you, i really do. but we cant do this" -you gestured to the space between you two- "i don't want to end up breaking your heart, or vice versa"
"best friends don't do this kind of shit! best friends don't play with each others hair and constantly hold hands. best friends don't need to have discussions addressing their romantic status. best friends don't kiss sober" he crossed his arms over his chest, like he just won an argument.
you placed your hands on his shoulders.
he roughly gripped your waist and pressed his forehead against yours. you started into his eyes and your chest heaved due to the stressful conversation. his face was too painful to say no to.
"please say yes, baby," he brushed his lips over yours and you couldn't deny-- you two would be magical if you could be with each other in all the ways you yearned for.
for a moment you felt flooded with panic.
then it slowly dissipated as your high set in and his fingers caressed your waist.
maybe he was right.
best friends don't do this.
you leaned in and kissed him roughly and desperately, as if you were terrified you'd never be able to again. everything was out in the open now.
"yes"
note: this lockdown has me bored and writing again. this isn't my best work but im a little rusty right now. i've been listening to nights by frank ocean on repeat and it helped me a little with the vibe of this imagine. i am still accepting requests. sorry this one was disconnected, i had an idea but it was hard to make it come to fruition, obviously lol.
