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[color=slategray][sub]Collab Featuring:[/sub][/color] [color=997fdb][sub][b]Marshall[/b][@Silent Observer][/sub][/color] [color=slategray][sub]&[/sub][/color] [color=a52521][sub][b]Owen[/b][@Universorum][/sub][/color]
[color=slategray][sub]Day: Tuesday Morning[/sub][/color]
[color=slategray][sub]Location: The Parking Lot of BHHS[/sub][/color]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/WGzuSoN.png?1[/img][/center]
[indent]Marshall Radley once again found himself with a lot on his mind. How did his life suddenly get like this? He might be a drama star, but he was never much of a fan of tragedies. [i]Now he was [b]living[/b] one[/i]. He did drugs last night, for God’s sake. Not the cute gummy edible kind, either, he actually smoked pot — like some kind of… [i]delinquent[/i]. Also, candy and multiple pieces of pizza in the same night? So much for a healthy diet. He was on a bender. Marsh was only almost-seventeen years old, and he was already having a damned mid-life [i][b]crisis[/b][/i].

Thankfully, Marshall hadn’t gotten so wrecked that he couldn’t remember what had happened last night. He remembered it, all right. How could he forget? Apparently, a stoned Marshall gets even more confident than a regular Marshall, and he finds it appropriate to commit the weed equivalent of drunk-texting his crush. [color=997fdb][i]Jesus Christ…[/i][/color] Marshall cringed at the thought of it. It’s not like he just [i]texted[/i] Jamie, either. It was a pouty snapchat selfie captioned: [color=997fdb]can we talk tm?[/color] Thank God the picture had only existed in cyberspace for a few moments before disappearing, without screenshot. Marshall knew Jamie saw it, though… because he had responded. So much cringe.

Marsh sat in the front seat of his iridescent purple [url=https://i.imgur.com/yEM7CDa.png]Mini[/url], contemplating the fact that he was about to make his second attempt at explaining the party situation to Jamie. Hopefully, with a bit more success and far less interruption, this time. Although he had gotten ripped with Kit and slept over at Candyland, he asked Ophelia to give him a ride home early this morning to prepare for this conversation. If he was going to try to [i]talk[/i] to Jamie, he needed to look really good, and certainly [i]not[/i] look like he had gotten super baked the night before. [color=997fdb][i]Ohmygod, what if I looked high in the snapchat?[/i][/color]

Sighing at the foolishness of his past self, Marshall stepped out of his car. He grabbed his leather messenger bag of schoolwork from the passenger’s seat, and his thermos of organic Throat Coat tea — which was a singer’s best friend. What was done, was done, it was time to own this chat, fix things, and totally woo Jamie Callaghan. Marshall spun on his heel confidently, and turned to see… well, the car of the last person he would want to see whilst alone. He was so startled that he jerked back and lost his grip on the porcelain Starbucks travel mug in his hand. The vessel shattered noisily, wasting the precious hot tea inside, and unfortunately drawing unwanted attention to himself. [color=997fdb][b]“Fuck!”[/b][/color] Marsh exclaimed as he ducked down to pick up the larger pieces. Maybe he could go unnoticed…

Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.

But did Owen even have anything to say to Marshall? Not really, he didn’t. He didn’t have anything to say to someone who’d abandoned him when he needed him most. Someone who had chased greener pastures when things got glum for Owen Lyon. But, Owen had to make a point, and honestly? In a way, he got a sick pleasure from the way Marshall was treating him after their last confrontation. Owen sat in his car, watching Marshall scramble to pick up the remains of his tea cup, and he shook his head. Before he opened his car door, he grabbed something out of the side panel, sticking it in his pocket. He pressed the button on his car door, and it slowly shut behind him, clicking. He stepped across the parking lot, and stood in front of Marshall as he picked up his shattered glass.

[color=a52521][b]“Marshall, [i]get up[/i].”[/b][/color] Owen hissed, standing over his ex-friend. Owen’s left hand was still covered in gauze, though it was less bloody than the stuff he’d had on the night before. His mother had made him change it out, but the wounds still bled a bit, and even the fresh gauze had the dark red stains.

Marsh yelped lightly at Owen’s voice. He had purposefully been looking at the ground and busying himself with the task of picking up pieces. This was a mistake, as it only led to him being startled yet again. Marsh let the shards of porcelain fall back down and stood up quickly. Fear made him extremely responsive to the command, and it also caused him to cautiously back up into the driver side door of his purple car. [color=997fdb][i]Shit.Shit.Shit.[/i][/color] Panic colored his thoughts as his heart hammered in his chest. Marshall was going to actually die this time, and there was no one around to stop it, or even see it.

Owen watched as Marshall backed away from him as if he were the devil. What a child. [color=a52521][b]“[i]Marshall![/i]”[/b][/color] Owen barked, to try and snap him out of it. He realized, though, that it wasn’t going to exactly make things better. The last thing Marshall wanted to hear was Owen’s voice with all that… [i]force[/i] behind it. But then again, did it even matter what Marshall wanted? Not really.

[color=997fdb][b]“I’m sorry!?”[/b][/color] Marshall barked back, his eyes had grown wide. It was an exclamation. It was a question. It was an apology. Marsh was confused. Owen was just… standing there, and yelling at him.  Did he want something? Was he… was he going to hit him? Marsh did his best to meet Owen’s gaze, afraid that he was going to see the same look in his eyes that he had seen at the party. But, Owen was one of his best friends, so he couldn’t just… not look. [color=997fdb][b]“I’m sorry.”[/b][/color]

[color=a52521][b]“You really should be,”[/b][/color] Owen said with an undeniable bluntness in his voice. His eyes weren’t angry. The fire in them seemed to have been significantly dulled, and he looked at Marshall almost as if he were gross. No, it seemed that Owen was not going to hit Marshall. Marshall, for now, was safe. [color=a52521][b]“Just let Jamie know that I was serious. I don’t ever want to talk to him again, and if I see him at the gym again. I’ll do more than what I did last time.”[/b][/color] Owen spoke in a low whisper, almost frighteningly calm, before he reached out with his injured hand, holding out the object he’d taken out of his car: a packet of the tea that Marshall loved.

[color=997fdb][b]“What?”[/b][/color] His voice was more calm now, but still a little higher pitched than normal. Perhaps it was the mention of Jamie, that had caught him off guard. Owen knew that Marsh liked him, Owen was the first person to know, actually, besides Marsh himself. But what did Jamie have to do with this? Marshall was distracted from his thoughts by the bandaged hand that was offering him a box of Throat Coat. He gingerly accepted it, somehow managing to feel guilty in doing so. Owen was being nice to him, and he didn’t feel like he deserved that. The last he knew, Owen had wanted to kill him. Now this? [color=997fdb][b]“Thanks.”[/b][/color]

Marshall’s eyes went from the box of tea, to Owen’s eyes, and then back down to Owen’s hand. The gauze wasn’t a good sign. Marsh had seen that before in the aftermath of one of the Lyon’s rage-filled outbursts. He could very well be hiding broken bones under those wrappings, with how hard he was capable of hitting things. [color=997fdb][b]“Are you… okay? Should we go to the nurse?”[/b][/color]

Owen froze as Marshall looked at his hand, and seemed to be considering something. [color=a52521][i]Here we go.[/i][/color] Owen let Marshall finish, but after he asked about the nurse, Owen’s lips curled up into a scowl, and he shook his head aggressively, the fire seemingly relit. [color=a52521][b]“I don’t need no [i]help.[/i] Least of all from [i]you[/i], [i]Sprinkles[/i],”[/b][/color] Owen hissed, turning around and adjusting the backpack that hung on his shoulder, stomping off toward the school without a further word.

[i]Ouch[/i]. Marsh didn’t know it was possible for a special nickname to hurt that much. Apparently even cute words could cut when they were wielded like a blade. Marshall stood stunned, cradling a box of tea in both hands as if it were precious and fragile, as he watched his best guy friend walk away from him. He was going to fix this too… he had to. Owen might be a cheat, but, maybe Marshall could get past that. Everyone makes mistakes…[/indent]