[color=wheat][indent][indent][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/BbZKDoG.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/tAFHoDi.png[/img]

[sub]a [@metanoia] & [@brutalbx] collaboration[/sub]
[color=darkgoldenrod]___________________________________________________________________________________________________[/color]
[color=d3d3d3]___________________________________________________________________________________________________[/color]
[/center]

Marco’s mind seemed to be full of thoughts he couldn’t shut out, but hasn’t that been his entire day? It seemed regardless if he was at home during the point that he was on-and-off listening to Mei’s podcast/stream or dreaming(?) that he was walking and then running all the way to the place where he got shot by Charlie Decker, Marco just couldn’t shut out those screaming thoughts. He tried to and even went by Cat’s sandwich shop just as it opened and got himself the only thing that has ever helped him that wasn’t his squad on League. A sandwich they might as well call “The Marco” because the Irish Reuben was what he always ordered. And Cat knew him to prefer a bit more kraut than most people preferred.

But as he sat at his computer desk, the sun glaring in his face and him killing heartless in Kingdom Hearts, a change of pace of sorts, he chuckled at the irony. He was in the Halloween Town world and it [i]was[/i] Halloween for Edenridge in the real world. How funny it was to him that some things aligned. And he tried to focus on it, but the only thing that he could think about was that conversation he had with himself. Cat helped him make some sense about it and one of the many screaming thoughts was a repeat of her advice to not have regrets. Whether he was talking to himself or some weird astral projection of his inner turmoil, Marco thought a lot about what she told him.

But there was something he had to do first. God or whatever sort of divine figure was at work tonight, knew that before he could go check up on Danny and maybe [i]really[/i] talk with him, Marco knew he had to do something first.

After a quick shower, and getting a “small” snack of a complete breakfast spread of sausage, eggs, toast, and some skillet potatoes tossed with some chili peppers, Marco was out the door. He felt full enough to have the confidence to do what he knew he needed to do, but he also had a level of conviction that wasn’t gonna be scared off by any doubt or fear of the unknown. Unlike the last time he got into his brother’s truck and drove to the scene of the worst event in his life, Marco was sure that this was going to happen in the way [i]he[/i] wanted. 

As he parked the truck in the same spot he did last time, like it was a symbolism for his growth in the past eight or so hours/ To most, that might not a lot of time but going through what he went through, it was like he spent that time in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber.

He took in a deep breath, running his hands along his arms that were inside a hoodie he had forgotten was Danny’s. A thought came to him of wanting to return it to him. Exhaling, Marco felt a wave of stress being released from him. He opened his mouth and just said it: [color=b8860b]“I don’t know if this is actually going to work, but if I could talk to myself, then maybe I can even talk to you, Charlie Decker.”[/color] Marco closed his eyes, some kind of foreboding sense in him refusing to let him open them.

As per the former soccer standouts request, emerging from behind the bow worn and decrepit “Welcome to Edenridge High” sign was the man himself, the monster; Charlie Decker. Of course, he hadn’t changed from that day. The visage that presented itself to Marco was not the same one that Poppy and the others had seen. He was not clean and unbruised. He did not look comfortable or at peace. This Charlie, this was the Charlie on [i]that day[/i]. His hair was greasy, his chocolate eyes were surrounded by dark, foreboding sleepless circles. Dried blood was splattered on his cheek and his clothes were worn and dirty. This was not the free spirit of Charlie Decker, this was the memory, the haunting pain in the collective gut of Edenridge. This was the boy the world let down.

[color=D3D3D3]“Marco”[/color]

His heart started to beat faster as the world around him came to a standstill. And he could hear the thumping of it pierce through his ears. His eyes remained closed but that did nothing to quell the fear inside him that was growing and growing until it threatened to explode from anywhere it could.

He thought he was ready. Marco was confident that after everything: having a talk with himself, getting food and unanticipated advice from Cat, and going home and having a bit of time to himself, Marco thought he prepared himself enough for ..for …[i]this[/i].

But then he heard Charlie’s voice say his name. It was strange because he seldom interacted with Charlie outside of small moments when they’d pass each other in the hall. Truthfully, Marco’s relationship with Charlie was almost nonexistent, yet his voice and hearing his name come from them was an unbearable terror that made the Mexican boy weak in the knees. 

But he had to regain himself. He had to find that confidence he was sure he came to this field with before Charlie appeared before him (or so he thought). He took in a total of three breaths. On the third one, he opened his eyes. He held himself together, though the effects of his legs shaking, made him take a knee and it was his weak leg that he had to put force on. 

[color=b8860b]“Charlie…”[/color] Marco said under a few, quick breaths. He grunted as he was vertical again. [color=b8860b]“Can’t believe that actually worked.”[/color] It was the surprise on Marco’s face that said it all. He knew whatever was happening was, if nothing else, unbelievable and unexplainable to anyone who hadn’t experienced it. With Marco not having many ties to Edenridge, his experience [i]would[/i] be with...this person.

After the initial dust cloud of shock settled, Marco stood about five feet away from Charlie and just looked at him. He couldn’t find any words to say other than his name. He couldn’t think straight. His thoughts were all over the place and, while he could say a mountain of things, none made it out with tact, so he just gritted his teeth. As he did that, he balled up his right fist so tight he felt his nails dig deep into the flesh of his palm.

[color=b8860b]“Charlie…Decker…”[/color]

And as he cried out in a mixture of terror and desperation that was laced with a latent anger Marco hadn’t known in years, he hooked his right arm, aiming dead straight for Charlie’s jaw.

The impact from Marco’s fist sent Charlie backward into a parked car. Standing as tall as the Native American boy did, it was always the case that whenever anyone swung for Charlie, which was often when he was alive, had to swing upwards. He had made sure to make himself corporeal for this meeting with Marco. He had learned that the charged emotions of those around him were what dictated his abilities in the moment. The likes of Poppy and the others, they remembered a different Charlie to the one that someone like Marco would. Marco would likely only remember the boy that shot up the school, who didn’t socialize at parties and constantly looked like he had just gone five rounds with Mike Tyson. Marco’s rage, Charlie felt it when he was called, he needed to let out whatever he had inside and he needed to do so at the darkest version of Charlie, the one that stole his future.

He corrected himself and stood back up to his full height. He didn’t move any closer to the other boy, just stayed perfectly resolute and still like the elder tree on the edge of town. 

[color=D3D3D3]“Let it out, Marco.”[/color]

[color=b8860b]“Let all of [i]what[/i] out?”[/color] Marco questioned back to a stilled Charlie Decker.

 Marco felt an immense pain coursing through the hand that had connected with Charlie’s jaw and it surged down his leg. It was bad enough that he allowed himself to be consumed by the emotions swirling inside him like something wasn’t balanced, but now he was suffering a pain caused by Charlie, but it had a double layering effect to it. The injury he caused and the literal sturdiness of his jaw made his entire hand hurt.

Looking at him, he needed to control himself. God, Marco really needed to find that center again.

But he couldn’t.

Not now and especially not after Charlie just...stood there.

Limping forward, Marco was slow in closing the gap between him and Charlie. He was seconds away from grabbing his shirt and pushing him further against the truck but the way that Charlie didn’t move startled him. [color=b8860b]“What do you want me to say, Charlie? Do you want me to say that I hate you? Is [i]that[/i] why you came when I called? Jesus Christ…”[/color] In a fit of frustration, he stomped the ground with both feet and gritted his teeth again from the stupidity that hindsight gave it. [color=b8860b]“God-fucking-damnit! You did this, you know? You don’t say anything and now because of [i]you[/i], I have a bum leg! Because you...Because you decided that you had to make people pay, you made..”[/color]

Fuck, what was he saying? No, that’s not true. Did...he really feel this way? This...wasn’t like the Marco Brady that was so full of life...or was this who he became?

Marco sank to the ground and his head lowered as he hit the grass with a close fist out of pure frustration at himself.

[color=D3D3D3]“I did do that and you didn’t do anything Marco, you were just there”[/color]

Charlie’s response was very matter of fact; in that moment it didn’t seem as if Marco needed an answer as to why or for a glimpse into the psyche of the mad man who shot up a school and the kids inside whom he had known since kindergarten. Acting as he was, as the boy he used to be, Charlie hated this but it’s who the former football star needed him to be right now. He had spent years in the afterlife regretting every decision he had ever made but Marco didn’t know that and he didn’t need to know that unless he wanted to.

[color=D3D3D3]“What is it you want, Marco? You called me here. Do you want an apology? Do you want to know why? Or do you just want to get a good look at the monster that haunts everyones dreams in some morbid curiosity? Man up and tell me what you want?!”[/color]

Marco felt silence take him in her grasp. The pain lingered, but he internalized it and kept it bottled up for what probably seemed like an eternity. He just...sat on the grass. He looked at the ground. At his hands. He replayed those moments before and after he was shot in his head, reliving it over and over and over and [i]over[/i] again. He tried to make sense of it and maybe find an answer to Charlie’s questions.

But there was nothing. Nothing that made any sense, anyway. He just kept going back to what his other self said. How he needed to confront his external crisis. How he would know what he needed from Charlie when the time came. 

The longer he sat there, lamenting about the past and thinking about it, he still didn’t know. Deep down, he just didn’t understand anything right now. [color=b8860b]“I...don’t know.”[/color] He finally broke the silence and his body shook as he raised up his head to meet Charlie’s gaze. [color=b8860b]“I-I thought…”[/color] Marco grunted as he got to a vertical base. He wobbled in place, but remained steady. He glared at Charlie, feeling the anger rise up again but he didn’t feel anything violent in that ire. It was controlled now. That one punch he gave was all of the hurt he endured during the months after he was shot. [color=b8860b]“I thought if I saw you and I was face to face with the person who did this to me -- and yes, you did this to me. You may not have been aiming [i]at[/i] me, but you did it. And I thought if I saw you again, I’d know what I’d want to say or do. But..”[/color]

Another moment of silence. Marco bit his lip, curled his right hand into a fist (more out of habit than anything else) .

And then he took a deep breath. 

[color=b8860b]“But I honestly don’t know what I want. I know it’s not an apology and I sure as hell didn’t want to see you dead. My Ma would never forgive me if I ever wished death upon anyone. Even if it was you. And I’m not going to do this anymore. Whatever is happening here, I’m done. Charlie Decker, I still hate you, but I don’t need to see you anymore. I think...that’s what the other me meant. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you or if you even know what I’m talking about, but it’s me, as you say, [i]manning up[/i].”[/color] He hated that he laughed for a short second after he said that.

[color=D3D3D3]“About time, Marco.”[/color] Charlie leaned back against a car, relaxing his posture and transforming from a menacing presence to a far more relaxed one. He placed his hands into his pockets before glancing over towards the soccer field where their last meeting had taken place.

[color=D3D3D3]“It’s not about what I took from you and I did take from you, it’s never been about that. Marco you had plans and dreams and a future but what you never got was that you still do. Yeah, maybe you’re not going to be playing for LA Galaxy but maybe that’s not where you're supposed to end up. The fact of the matter is, by letting the memory of what I did go and what you were supposed to be, you’re going to open up an entirely new road for yourself. There are times in our lives where we find ourselves at a crossroads. This is yours. It’s your choice if you wanna go down it”[/color]

There was a bittersweet feeling starting to swell up inside him. Hearing Charlie make actual sense was a pill he wasn’t ready to swallow yet. Hearing that he wasn’t to blame, though deep down Marco knew the deceased boy was right, he wasn’t ready to accept it. The pain he felt was still there and even though he has accepted [i]some[/i] truth of this whole ordeal, he just wasn’t at that point that he could willingly accept what Charlie said, let alone make any decisions about letting go.

But that was okay. Actually it was more than okay. 

As he looked at Charlie, his face still filled him with anger that he just couldn’t control, he didn’t want to hit him. This…journey was rough and the past twelve or so hours had been more mentally taxing on him than actually getting shot had. That was crazy, but it was the truth and he was ready to just be done with it. Maybe Charlie understood that because now that he was looking up at the boy, he noticed he didn’t look as…death-ridden. His features were cleaner, like the Charlie that Marco remembered from before the shooting. The Charlie that he remembered passing in the halls of Edenridge sometimes.

And then Marco let out a small laugh.[color=b8860b] “No, I don’t think that I will.”[/color] Of course, he had to say the iconic line from Avengers: Endgame. [color=b8860b]“At least, not right now.”[/color] Marco limped past Charlie and was on the driver’s side of the truck. His hand was gripping the door handle and turned his head at Charlie. “I never thought I would say this, but thanks for helping, Charlie.”

[color=D3D3D3]“Don’t thank me yet, Marco. You still have a ways to go but good luck”[/color] Charlie nodded towards his former classmate. He had hoped that what he had said would be enough to help the boy out. Marco was never a friend and they were barely even acquaintances but he had suffered more than most because of what Charlie did. If he could give him any sort of closure, he felt it was his duty. He glanced up behind Marco at the school and he felt a pain in his heart. It wasn't a pleasant feeling to be reminded that he never truly left. He sadly turned his back and walked towards the football field, fading into the night.[/indent][/indent][/color]