๐๐ฆ๐: ๐๐๐ฅ. ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐ธโ๐๐โ ๐ผ๐๐ค๐ฅ / / ๐๐ฆ๐๐ฅ๐ ๐๐๐ / / ๐๐๐๐
He'd noticed it a while ago, but he didn't want to acknowledge it for fear of setting off the whole cascade of events. That slowly creeping sense of unnatural dread that signaled the beginning of another restless night. Another nightmare for him to endure, like his own little theater of the damned.
He was in the passenger seat of a car. A Hellcat, he knew. Instinctively, he knew exactly where he was right now. He was in a fast car, on Bald Head Island - the same little stretch of land that Zhang's Estate had been on. Maybe still was. Or maybe it was all splinters, like everything else that had been on the island. Though he couldn't hear the words, he could hear someone talking next to him. He turned his head to find the source, immediately finding the action to be slow and muddled, like he was submerged in water. Beside him was Angel, clad in her bikini, hand steady on the wheel as they flew down the road.
" -re you okay, Marcus? You seemed like you were phasing out there."
"Yeah...no...I'm fine. I was just...thinking is all..." he said, slowly glancing around the cab of the car. Something felt wrong. He couldn't quite pin down what it was, but something was definitely off. Was it him? Was something wrong with him?
"Are you sure you're good? You're as pale as a ghost, and you seem like you're freaking out." The voice was directly in his ears, whispering from inside his skull instead of coming out of her mouth.
"I said I'm fine...can you not do that?" Marcus replied, a sudden wave of irritation rolling across him. He pulled down the overhead mirror as he spoke; something didn't feel right. Was it him? Was somethi-
Of course it was him. The mirror revealed that much. In the reflection was his face. His normal face. Without the arbiter mark. Without the scars. It was...him.
"You're definitely freaking out. Do you need to barf or something?" The voice came from the backseat of the car.
"I'm fine! Jesus. Just...give me a second." his irritation had turned to anger at this point
"There's no need to be such an asshole about it!" Something about it made him want to wring her neck. Why was he so angry?
"-ost control." The voice beside him again. Angel was saying something.
"You're fine. It wasn't your fault." he said, trying to be reassuring.
"It wasn't your fault." Another voice from the back, repeating his words like a parrot. A tone that sent shivers down his spine.
"It was my fault."
"No! It wasn't! It wasn't anybody's fault!" Marcus shouted, running his hands through his hair. He didn't dare turn around to face the backseat...it was as if he could feel what lurked behind him.
"Then whose fault was it!? WHOSE?" she shouted angrily, followed by a sickening sound. A wet, bony crunch, followed by another, as if someone hadn't gotten it on the first try.
"I don't know!" He was lying. He was angry.
"I lost control.
Marcus turned to look at her. Whatever was sitting in the passenger seat wasn't Angel. It was her body, but her head was shrouded in shadows, like an oily black flame. He was pointing a gun at her. All he wanted was for them to quiet down for a moment, so he could think things over. It would all be fine if he could just think for a moment.
The gun shook in his hand, but did not fire. There was something around his neck, lifting him in his seat. A raspy whisper from behind him. "I thought you'd be better"
His own neck crunched once under the pressure of the noose.
"Lost control." It was only as the car crashed through the guardrail that Marcus actually knew what she was talking about.
They were weightless. The cliffside was a perfect drop. Marcus could feel his stomach rise in his body, like the feeling you'd get right before the drop on a rollercoaster. His neck twisted again. He could feel the skin tearing and the blood running down the front of him.
"Make the sacrifice!Let me go!"
"I lost." Like that, Marcus was alone. Cripplingly lonely. Even as the ground rushed to meet him. Even as he could feel his shins jam the rest of his leg bones deeper into his torso. As every single rib splintered and fractured like plywood. As his jaw hit the dashboard, forcing his head backwards until he heard the pop of every single vertebrae. As the glass and metal forced its way through his face, tearing through skin like paper. As the flames sizzled through his nerves until he could feel nothing, and he heard a screaming that was not his own. A screaming that brought so many emotions with it, until he knew that he was worthless and deserved this punishment.
Even through that, the worst feeling was the loneliness.
He was in the passenger seat of a car. A Hellcat, he knew. Instinctively, he knew exactly where he was right now. He was in a fast car, on Bald Head Island - the same little stretch of land that Zhang's Estate had been on. Maybe still was. Or maybe it was all splinters, like everything else that had been on the island. Though he couldn't hear the words, he could hear someone talking next to him. He turned his head to find the source, immediately finding the action to be slow and muddled, like he was submerged in water. Beside him was Angel, clad in her bikini, hand steady on the wheel as they flew down the road.
" -re you okay, Marcus? You seemed like you were phasing out there."
"Yeah...no...I'm fine. I was just...thinking is all..." he said, slowly glancing around the cab of the car. Something felt wrong. He couldn't quite pin down what it was, but something was definitely off. Was it him? Was something wrong with him?
"Are you sure you're good? You're as pale as a ghost, and you seem like you're freaking out." The voice was directly in his ears, whispering from inside his skull instead of coming out of her mouth.
"I said I'm fine...can you not do that?" Marcus replied, a sudden wave of irritation rolling across him. He pulled down the overhead mirror as he spoke; something didn't feel right. Was it him? Was somethi-
Of course it was him. The mirror revealed that much. In the reflection was his face. His normal face. Without the arbiter mark. Without the scars. It was...him.
"You're definitely freaking out. Do you need to barf or something?" The voice came from the backseat of the car.
"I'm fine! Jesus. Just...give me a second." his irritation had turned to anger at this point
"There's no need to be such an asshole about it!" Something about it made him want to wring her neck. Why was he so angry?
"-ost control." The voice beside him again. Angel was saying something.
"You're fine. It wasn't your fault." he said, trying to be reassuring.
"It wasn't your fault." Another voice from the back, repeating his words like a parrot. A tone that sent shivers down his spine.
"It was my fault."
"No! It wasn't! It wasn't anybody's fault!" Marcus shouted, running his hands through his hair. He didn't dare turn around to face the backseat...it was as if he could feel what lurked behind him.
"Then whose fault was it!? WHOSE?" she shouted angrily, followed by a sickening sound. A wet, bony crunch, followed by another, as if someone hadn't gotten it on the first try.
"I don't know!" He was lying. He was angry.
"I lost control.
Marcus turned to look at her. Whatever was sitting in the passenger seat wasn't Angel. It was her body, but her head was shrouded in shadows, like an oily black flame. He was pointing a gun at her. All he wanted was for them to quiet down for a moment, so he could think things over. It would all be fine if he could just think for a moment.
The gun shook in his hand, but did not fire. There was something around his neck, lifting him in his seat. A raspy whisper from behind him. "I thought you'd be better"
His own neck crunched once under the pressure of the noose.
"Lost control." It was only as the car crashed through the guardrail that Marcus actually knew what she was talking about.
They were weightless. The cliffside was a perfect drop. Marcus could feel his stomach rise in his body, like the feeling you'd get right before the drop on a rollercoaster. His neck twisted again. He could feel the skin tearing and the blood running down the front of him.
"Make the sacrifice!Let me go!"
"I lost." Like that, Marcus was alone. Cripplingly lonely. Even as the ground rushed to meet him. Even as he could feel his shins jam the rest of his leg bones deeper into his torso. As every single rib splintered and fractured like plywood. As his jaw hit the dashboard, forcing his head backwards until he heard the pop of every single vertebrae. As the glass and metal forced its way through his face, tearing through skin like paper. As the flames sizzled through his nerves until he could feel nothing, and he heard a screaming that was not his own. A screaming that brought so many emotions with it, until he knew that he was worthless and deserved this punishment.
Even through that, the worst feeling was the loneliness.
He shot straight up out of bed, the sheer momentum carrying his bedsheets off the top half of him. He was in his room. No...not his room. He was in Suite 430; the room he'd been given. His stomach was flipping, threatening to force it's way out of his body.
The room was dark, soft moonlight only illuminating a faint portion of the room. He didn't know exactly what time it was, but none of that really seemed to matter as he made a mad dash for the bathroom. If Siena and Callan were around, he hadn't noticed them in his rush. The safety of the porcelain was a welcome sight, even more welcome when his stomach did not stop it's heaving. He'd lost the dice roll this night. At least he had the sense to close the bathroom door so he wouldn't be disturbing his roommates.
He sat on the white tiled floor, breathing heavily, eyes watering and hands shaking. This kind of thing was happening more frequently, and he didn't particularly care for it. He didn't feel like breaking down and sobbing this time, he just felt like giving up.
Siena had, as per her usual, decided that staying up late was fine--well, it had been fine, for all intents and purposes. Though she kept experimentation with her abilities to a minimum with her roommates in mind, Siena had chosen to bury herself, once more, in words. Every night. The later she could push off sleep, the better--shouldn't she feel bad about that? It wasn't as though Brent had left any terms vague when he pointed out that she needed sleep. It had been easier with the presence of new nightmares, ones that she hadn't gotten used to tearing the peace from her rest. Not yet, at least.
There shouldn't have been a yet.
Tater Tot seemed restless, the canine constantly padding near Marcus's bed despite constant, quiet calls to return. To be certain, Siena doubted that the dog was restless for no reason, but she doubted that Marcus would have been thrilled to wake up to a dog perched on his chest. It seemed that every twenty minutes, the ruby-coated canine would rise from his position curled at the foot of Siena's bed to peering at the boy, head cocked and tail half raised...but at least, the dog had eventually drifted off into an energetic dream. The brunette liked to pretend that the small creature dreamed of chasing tennis balls.
It was only a few moments after Callan had returned and all but collapsed into her bed that anything deviated powerfully from the norm.
Marcus shot out of bed, the motion registering as familiar in Siena's head, but her body already moving, tossing aside her reader in favor of her phone, with every bookmark, every defensive option available, her eyes darting from the boy's figure making a wild beeline for the bathroom, his name on the tip of her tongue, but failing to escape before he had vanished. Siena furrowed her brow in concern, halfway off the bed already, Tater Tot having woken with an equally violent start, shaking himself out and looking at the girl with wide, questioning eyes. Heart pounding with adrenaline, mind filled with too many "what ifs", and every fiber of her being knowing what it wanted to do, even if her mind said that it was a poor idea, at best. Conflicted, the girl pushed herself fully from her spot on the bed, eyes drifting toward Callan to gauge what her own reaction should be.
It was another night of rigorous training and, as usual, Callan felt so tired that she could scarcely remember the walk back to her dorm room. Normally she'd stay even longer, but tonight she felt as though everything had somehow managed to catch up with her.
By some stroke of fate, she even decided to forgo the shower that night. Callan collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, not bothering to provide Siena with so much as a wave. Not four seconds passed before the sudden rustling of bedsheets, followed by the frenzied sound of bare feet dashing across the floor, caused her eyes to snap open. Sitting up quickly, she caught a glimpse of disheveled blonde hair disappearing behind the bathroom door, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone retching into the toilet.
She waited for a moment, hand over her mouth as she awkwardly sat there. The toilet finally flushed and she waited a bit more, exchanging a worried glance with Siena, before finally slipping out of bed and approaching the door.
She tapped her knuckles against the door gently, hesitating before she finally said his name. "Marcus?" she asked, "You okay?"
Marcus's head jerked towards the voice behind the door. Of course it would be Callan coming to check on him - it was basically the same scene from the Capture the Flag scene. Pathetic, propped up against the wall beside the toilet as he evaluated his life, and frighteningly close to just giving up. Only this time, the game wouldn't be finished by the time he got out of here. He was still quivering like a frightened schoolchild as he tried to think of some sort of response. Everything shook with residual fear, a feeling that only made himself more irritated. He'd been through these nightmares before, the fact that they still had this much effect on him was a greater look into his psyche than the actual contents. At least it hadn't caused a full-fledged breakdown this time, that would have been a little harder to hide.
"Y-yeah," a good start as his voice immediately caught in his throat, "Yeah. I'm okay. Must've...must've eaten something that didn't agree with me."
Even if he wasn't naturally awful at lying under pressure, the shakiness of his voice still came through perfectly.
Quietly, Siena lowered her phone, allowing it to fall into her sheets as though finally deciding that the situation wasn't quite so dangerous. Her mind buzzed with alternating currents of concern and curiosity, the two twisting into an abomination that Siena doubted she wanted to deal with in depth. A voice in the back of her head told her to be wary of the explanation, but for the moment, she allowed that to slide. She approached Callan, careful in her movements, mind twisting in trying to decide what she wanted to feel in that moment.
"I--" Do not think that food makes anyone react that way. "--don't think he's 'okay' if he just um..." Marking the unpleasant action of losing the contents of one stomach with a faint grimace and a shrug instead of the correct word, Siena allowed another phrase to take its place. "Well, you know." Concern still pulsed in the pit of her stomach, but she gave Callan a weak, wary attempt at a smile. Distant and hollow again, but not because she did not feel what went behind it this time. "I'll see if we have anything that can help his stomach settle."
Because regardless of what had caused the situation, Siena was acutely aware that Marcus likely wasn't keen to hear platitudes and condolences from her, of all people. She lowered her voice to a soft whisper, painted over the thoughts with words that were accurate, but acceptable in the situation.
"He probably doesn't want me crowding him anyways."
"Good idea," Callan nodded gratefully, taking a self-conscious step away from the door. As if Marcus could sense either of them crowding from the other side.
"Uh... do you need some help?" she called out again, unsure of what she could do for him-- only that she agreed with Siena. He definitely didn't sound okay.
"No. I'm..." There was a longer pause here than he would have liked. The rational part of his brain desperately needed attention; someone to just talk to and be there to listen. And yet, he also wanted to avoid talking; maintain the guise that nothing was wrong, even though it meant stewing in his own thoughts. Even if people knew, he could still pretend like they didn't. Deny what was so obvious; he was good at that, at least.
"...I'm good." he finished.
Callan was beginning to feel like she was well on her way to becoming a nuisance. "Are you sure?" she pressed, her voice thick with concern in spite of herself, "Because you really don't sound like it."
Another pause. It was Callan. Of all the people around him, with the varying degrees at which he trusted them, she was still fairly high on his list. Maybe it wouldn't be...
"...no. I'm not." he finally answered, the first truthful statement of the night.
Callan blinked at the door, surprised by the answer, even if it was exactly the one she'd been looking for. She tried to think of a reason why Marcus might not be okay. Determination? Emma wouldn't have changed her mind and told him, right? Or maybe it was something else entirely.
"Did you... wanna come out here and talk about it?" she prodded, nervously pushing her bangs back. She didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to being perfectly open and honest with Marcus. Though not for lack of wanting. She just... didn't want to burden anyone. Brutally aware of how hypocritical she was being, Callan waited.
Marcus let out a silent groan. He didn't really want to go anywhere; this spot was comfortable. Well...maybe not, but he didn't even want to put in the effort to stand up. Still, there were people outside, and even if he had forced Callan away, he couldn't just hide in the bathroom forever.
"Yeah...just give me a second." he said, shaking his head where he sat. He forced himself to his feet, and stood unsure for a moment as he evaluated his balance. On steadier legs, he walked over to the sink to splash some cold water on his face and just think for a moment. His eyes caught his own, looking himself in the mirror; his face. Only, it wasn't; his face didn't have scars or white streaks. This was someone else's face. Every imperfection, every spot of discolored skin, that was someone else's.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Marcus walked towards the door. Taking a deep breath, he swung it open, looking to the aquamarine hair on the other side. His eyes carried the same defeat as they had when she found him in the sewers, with the added redness that came from his previous retching. He said nothing, his brain having failed to come up with anything that might alleviate the concern, instead giving a slightly unsure smile to the girl on the other side.
Hearing the facet come on, Callan glanced towards her bed in alarm. She rushed over and speedily managed to bundle every stray sock and shirt into her comforter and shove it towards the corner. To her credit, the mess could have been much worse. No doubt she owed that to Ernie's cleaning spree before Wisford. Not to mention the fact she'd only really been home to sleep all week-- likely also the reason she was suddenly feeling so out of the loop when it came to her roommate's well being.
Callan quickly resumed her place in front of the door, taking a few hurried steps back when she finally heard the knob turn. Reflexively, she mirrored his smile, relieved to see that he at least seemed physically okay on the outside. "Have a seat in my office," she gestured with a brittle attempt at sounding like an ultra-professional therapist.
Marcus scoffed once, and rolled his eyes. "You have an office now? Didn't realize that you were such a renown consultant." he said, his joke a fair bit dryer than usual. He followed her gestured hand back to the room, sitting heavily on the suddenly available space. Even now, he had no idea what he wanted to talk about. Maybe he should have just said he was fine and gone back to bed. That would have been easier.
"Heh," Callan laughed weakly, mentally kicking herself. Marcus always seemed to know how to lighten a mood-- something she felt she was significantly worse at. You can do this, she encouraged herself, Just listen.
She waited for Marcus to take a seat, steeling herself with a small breath before sitting a good foot or so away.
"So," Callan looked him over worriedly, "Bad dream?"
"Something like that." Marcus said, looking off to the side. He ran his hand nervously through his hair; debating how much he actually wanted to say. "I've been having nightmares for a while now, every so often a really bad one comes around. It's really nothing to worry about." he was starting to backtrack on his decision now. If he just played it off and made Callan think he was okay, he wouldn't have to face the things he'd mentally pushed aside.
'Nothing to worry about'... except Marcus just lost his dinner. Not to mention everything else that seemed off right now. Callan wasn't buying it. And apparently this was a recurring thing? She felt a pang of guilt in trying to reason out how long this might've been going on, regretting having been so distant. But even if she hadn't, it's unlikely he would've opened up to her about it, right?
Callan frowned, leaning forward a bit to try and see his eyes. Searching desperately for an excuse to believe him. Or maybe just some sign of what to say. "What are they about?" she asked instead, immediately feeling a knot in her stomach when she realized that might be too much. "You don't have to tell me!" she added quickly, "I understand if you don't want to.... I just want to help...."
Marcus was consciously aware of the weight on the bed shifting. His eyes darted to meet hers, and then back to the ground. She just wanted to help. And boy did he need it.
"They're..." even as he tried to think of a way to describe them, a small surge of fear coursed through his heart. He didn't want to go back there.
"Do you remember where you were when you got your powers?" Marcus asked, seemingly off topic.
The question caught her off guard. "Y-yeah," Callan looked away, finding her own spot on the floor to look at until Marcus continued.
Oof, not exactly the best of topics. He hadn't exactly meant to make this into a lecture, but it seemed like Callan had her own bad experiences. Perhaps a topic for another time.
"When I got mine, I was basically crippled in a refugee camp. I...didn't have a great time before that." It seemed like a dumb statement, but there really was no way to generalize it. "That's usually where the nightmares come from, if they're not USARILN's doing."
Callan couldn't help it. Her eyes passed over the scars across his cheek and mouth before locking onto sad brown eyes. She'd heard of refugee camps on the news-- never nice stories. Tales galor of broken homes, broken families... broken people.
She could only imagine what he might've gone through. Her heart broke for him.
It took her a moment to find the right words, even if all she came up with was probably the same thing anyone would say. She didn't feel like it was enough considering how badly she wanted to make him feel better, but.. it was all she could do for now.
"Marcus... I'm so sorry."
He watched as her eyes traced over his face. Every little detail, every little mark. When her eyes met his, all he could do was give another pathetic half-smile.
"It's...it's okay. Sometimes it's just hard to escape, you know?"
"Yeah... I get it," she said, thinking for a moment.
"But, you know.... If you ever need help," Callan started, looking down at her hands as she nervously twisted her fingers , "I'm always here for you."
She felt like she might have crossed a line somewhere in saying that, but it was true. And she felt like Marcus really needed to hear it.
"Since we're teammates and all," she added.
"Thanks Callan. I really appreciate that." he'd said the words to enough people before, all wishing their best and saying they'd be there for him. This time though...it felt genuine.
Memories of broken doors and clawed carpets came to mind; the utter panic he'd felt when he feared the worst for her.
"And you know I'm always here if you need me." he added, throwing in his own offer.
"Yeah..." she half sighed dreamily. Hearing him say that made it feel like she had butterflies in her stomach and she almost didn't catch herself staring.
"I mean-- I'm pretty sure you've said that before," Callan added with a nervous laugh. "Anyway, as long as you know."
"I do. And thank you."
As expected, things were probably going more smoothly without her than they likely would have gone with her presence. Siena had made certain to take her time, glad to have given herself the excuse of having to find specific things from the kitchen to buy herself as much time as she needed to stay out of the way. After all, even if she'd managed to say the same things, it wouldn't have been the same result. Empty, disingenuous promises at best. Most of the words were muffled, even with the relative silence of the kitchen after Siena had quickly (and surprisingly easily) managed to locate both the tea she'd been looking for and a few, easily prepared, bland food items.
It was odd--listening in on conversations was something she'd thought would have been left behind without any real reason. Apparently old habits--bad habits?--died hard.
She'd known, to some extent, of when Marcus had received his mark. Remembered it from their brief conversation when she'd been in a self-induced isolation, trapped by her own inability to leave without a source in her hand, but she hadn't realized that he'd been in a refugee camp. The words made her stomach churn, her mind wandering to unpleasant thoughts. Unpleasant. Unwelcome.
'You get to one of 'em after a big disaster or attack, and there's always gonna be someone that wants to get even.'
Careful, even breaths became the focus of Siena's thoughts as she did her best to balance everything on the largest flat surface she could find. All three cups rattled unceremoniously in unison with her own unsteady grip, the small stack of toast sliding precariously about on its plate for a moment before the girl took another deep breath. Careful. Erasing all traces of her own thoughts from her face, the brunette painted on a cautious, concerned expression, stepped back to her roommates, and cleared her throat gingerly to attract their attention. "I managed to find s--"
She was certain that action didn't work nearly as well as the small, four legged creature that bolted past her, trying to leap onto the bed. He failed, having jumped a fraction of a second too early, his front paws scrabbling helplessly at the sheets before he slid off with a small thump. Tater Tot blinked as though he had been betrayed, rolling to his feet and looking up with his tail wagging, mouth open to continue his haphazard panting. Siena, on the other hand, remained frozen in place for a moment before finding it in her to try again.
"O-Or that can happen.."
Callan had nearly forgotten about Siena. The moment she spotted the tea tray rounding the corner, Callan self-consciously slid another inch or so away from Marcus, desperately trying to hide the dopey grin on her face behind a fake cough and the back of her hand. She suppressed a laugh at the sight of Tater Tot's sad attempt at joining them on the bed, almost tempted to pick him up before she remembered how much Marcus disliked dogs. Frankly, Callan thought it was a miracle he hadn't requested a different room by now.
"Sorry, puppy. People only," she chuckled.
Meanwhile, Marcus had flinched at the sudden impact against the bed. Just when he had been starting to calm down, the terrible little thing had come running in to trigger him.
Still; even he couldn't admit that it was a hilarious series of events. The terrifying eyes and teeth squished into eachother at the moment of impact. He snorted a little bit behind his hand, allowing a full-blown chuckle through. What a stupid little monster.
"Er..." Regaining herself with a half exasperated smile and a quiet chuckle to herself at Tater Tot's expense, Siena carefully approached with the tray in hand, the contents now far steadier after a sufficient distraction from thoughts she'd rather not confront. "As I was saying, I thought you might want something to settle your stomach."
Tater Tot gave a small sound by her feet, earning a sidelong glance.
"Not your stomach, Tater Tot..." The canine seemed to accept that, happily sitting on his haunches, tail still wagging. Siena returned her attention to her roommates, expression still set in a flawless imitation of concern. "I'm pretty sure the tea isn't caffeinated, so um...it shouldn't keep anyone up...?"
'Might be better for me if I stay up for a little while.'
"Thank you." Marcus said softly, carefully taking the tea from the tray so it wouldn't spill on Callan's sheets. He waived the toast for now; last thing he wanted to do was make a mess on Callan's...perfectly immaculate bedspread? When had that happened?
"Thanks, Siena," Callan smiled, accepting both some tea and a slice of toast. The lack of caffeine was a little disappointing-- not that she could blame her. Though it definitely would have come in handy on the not-so-off chance Marcus still needed help getting his mind off of whatever had woken him up in the first place. She felt she'd done a pretty good job of hiding it so far, but Callan was plenty exhausted.
Nonetheless.
"Hey, by the way... they just came out with a bunch of new shows on Netflix," Callan offered, looking between Siena and Marcus, "Unless everyone was planning on goin' back to sleep...?"
"Sure, I can stay awake for a little bit." Marcus said, taking a sip of the tea. He reflexively made a small face; it was a little more bitter than he was used to drinks being. He grinned slightly to himself, completely unaware of the connotations of his next sentance.
"Netflix and chiiiiii-" Now he'd realized. Halfway through his sentence, he coughed awkwardly, as if he were trying to distract the two from his own voice. "Hang out. We can just hang out."
He quickly took another sip of tea, hoping nobody had heard him, despite the fact that he knew they had.
Violently blushing, Callan nearly crushed the cup in her hand before Marcus got a chance to warp his wording. Her shoulders relaxed just a bit and she leered at him while taking a quick sip. Man, the tea was kind of bitter, wasn't it?
When nobody else immediately said anything, Callan sighed, shaking her head as she stook up.
"God, you're an idiot," she smirked before turning to Siena, "What about you, Siena? Wanna watch?"
Had she missed something? The expressions and quick changes in mannerisms hadn't escaped her notice, but the brunette was thoroughly confused at to what the cause was. It was hard to cover the utter uncertainty that she felt at the moment.
"U-Um...s-sure?" Still confused. Absolutely and entirely, and notes of it crept into her voice. With no other way to understand what she'd apparently missed, Siena had little choice but to bite the bullet and ask--nothing had sounded incorrect in the conversation. "Um...does 'Netflix and chill' mean something that I'm misunderstanding? I...feel like I missed something."
Marcus had already been trying to bury his face immediately after he made the unfortunate joke, and the sudden question only forced his face to grow redder as he tried to disappear. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of both his roommates watching him, and all he could do was give Callan an apologetic grin.
Immediately, Callan directed her attention towards Marcus with a look that clearly said 'This is your fault'. She waited for him to provide the explaination, but it never came. Instead all she got was a stupid grin.... Stupid, stupid grin.
"It's when you..." Callan started the sentence with no idea how to finish it so she quickly backtracked, "It's a phrase you use when you're... w-when you wanna hook up with someone."
Hook up--she knew that turn of phrase. Siena racked her mind for a moment, expression shifting to one of focus as she fumbled through all the colloquialisms that she'd been exposed to. Hook up, hook up...ah, right, there had been the time that Perkins had used it with the rest of--oh.
A light of realization flickered across her expression as the meaning clicked into place, eyes darting from one roommate to another. Her smile faltered for a moment, and Siena gave a courteous, fake cough as though it would erase the awkwardness of the moment. It did not.
"Oh."
God it was quiet.
It was a moment of silence before Marcus stood up, taking a piece of toast and marching triumphantly towards the living room. "Yes! Netflix! Go!" With any luck, this entire incident would be forgotten. Or the sun would supernova and kill them all.
"Yeah..." Callan rubbed her temple, suffering from the embarrassment of having to explain. She muttered a quick apology to Siena before following after Marcus.
With that awkward situation out of the way, the trio sat down to watch Netflix together; the first Suite activity they'd all had since Wisford. Of course, it was hard for it to feel like a Suite activity - Marcus and Callan had deliberately placed themselves as far away from eachother on the couches as they physically could have. Plus, the addition of Tater Tot guarding the spot between Siena and Marcus had forced the boy further into the armrest of the sofa. Still, it was a pleasant distraction from the nightmares that had begun this whole night. He could almost feel safe in his own dorm room, with the fears of the past thankfully out of mind for now, however brief it was.
Even after Siena left to go take Tater Tot outside, Marcus and Callan still remained on the couch. At one point Marcus had attempted to stammer out some sort of apology, but the eye contact just left the both of them flustered and embarrassed, saying nothing as the TV shows continued on. It was only after a few hours of mindless television had passed that Marcus finally attempted to say something.
"Hey Cal; I just wanted to thank you. It's good to know you've always got my back, and it probably means more to me than-" Except when he looked over to address her, he was met with her snoring face. Who knows how long she'd actually been asleep.
For a moment, Marcus sat in stunned silence. But it didn't take long for him to smile to himself and roll his eyes. He stood up, turned off the television, and slowly made his way back to his bed. He'd had a long night, but he at least felt like he could sleep a little bit easier now. Maybe he'd have another nightmare, but perhaps he'd be okay this time.
Except...there was something he was forgetting.
When Callan woke up later in the day, she'd find a blanket thrown over top of her; one that hadn't been there when she fell asleep.
