Details in the Fabric - Old Version: Chapter Two
Marshall has a dream where it is perpetually black, no sight, no sound, save for a slight ringing in his ear.
The lyrics to Love Is Strange from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack begins playing, a movie Gumball introduced to him in their sophomore year.
Love, love is strange.
Invisible tendrils slide over his skin, curl around his arms and circle around his neck. The noose around his throat tightens, and he suddenly can't breathe.
Come here, lover boy.
And if he doesn't answer?
The scent of strawberry shampoo fills his nostrils. The tentacles dig into his skin. Marshall struggles for breath, his body going out of control. His mouth fights for air, lungs contorting, insides burning.
Oh, lover boy.
And if he still doesn't answer?
I simply say: baby, oh baby, my sweet baby-you're the one.
When Marshall Lee wakes up in the morning, he's drenched in sweat, gasping for oxygen. Laney's tense face is above him, her long hair tickling his temples, hands gripping his wrists. The sheets and comforter are a tangled mess at his feet.
"You were screaming," his sister says.
When Marshall wakes up in the morning, he forgets what happened in the dream.
The loud noises of the street give Marshall a headache. They always have, even if he was born in New York City, even if he's spent most of his life listening to a whole spectrum of music, most of which is loud and strains any speaker or amp. He's still never gotten used to it. He remembers when he was younger that his father gave him an old CD player with bulky blue headphones. Marshall was ten.
"Just listen to music and everyone will go away-the people, the noise. All of it."
"Are you sure?"
"Would I ever lie to you, Lee?"
He had looked up to his father so much back then. Marshall turns his father's words over in his head-would I ever lie to you. Lie.
Marshall hasn't seen his father in four years.
He doesn't know where that CD player went, or the headphones. But he got quite the replacement.
Gumball gave him an iPod Touch as a birthday present two years ago. It was sleek and black and came with a case that cracked a week later. On the back of the phone Marshall has decorated it with various stickers-Pokemon, Final Fantasy, and a spare Melody one-that pink bunny thing-courtesy of Gumball. Finn put on Captain America's shield and Fionna put on a flower. Marceline put on boobs, which Gumball hurriedly covered with a smiley face. Some have shiny film, little bits of metallic that shine when hit with light, others falling off or fading away.
Marshall Lee hums along to Poison, hands tucked in his large jean jacket pockets. Noise aside, there are very few cons that come with living in a large city (at least according to Marshall), and the pros override them all.
When he's on the street, there's a plethora of people. When they say New York is multicultural, they're telling the complete, unwavering truth. Sure, you have areas that are condensed with a certain type of person, but when you go to the main parts of the city, the famous parts-Times Square, Broadway, Central Park, and the surrounding areas-you could be anyone in the flood of humans.
Marshall could pass off as a tourist or college student or bum. He could be anyone, he could not be Marshall Lee Hart, and no one would know. They wouldn't notice because they don't know him, because he's just a smear on the fully painted canvas of the city.
When a stranger asks who he is, Marshall plays a game.
"James Bond."
"Danny Zuko."
"Loki."
"Ash Ketchum."
"One of Charlie's Angels."
It is fun pretending-even if you're seventeen, it never gets old. The game may change but the concept does not. For a few blissful seconds, Marshall will feel carefree, content, and happy and unbothered. The moment never lasts long, though, because if Marshall ever catches his reflection, he can only see himself.
Marshall walks away from Helga's shop and passes the crazy homeless man ("You're going to Hell!") as the music switches to Cher. The sky is still dark, the first little hints of a sunset barely surfacing, just now crowning over the horizon. He hears mewling to his right and pauses, turning.
He looks around the alley, a dumpster on the left, a few overturned boxes beside it. He narrows his eyes and walks into the shadowy alleyway, moving to where the noise is. Marshall finds himself beside a trashcan, and a small, bald kitten comes out from behind the bin.
The stray only looks a couple years old. It's worse for the wear, with various scratches and scars scattered along its skin. Marshall frowns and crouches down, completely ignoring the time and the fact that he needs to get to school.
He rummages in his jacket pocket and pulls out his mint from Helga, which he was going to save for later. Marshall unwraps it and gently offers it to the cat. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that it's a girl, and that she has a large scar on her right eye, said eye a pale blue. Marshall softens.
"Hey," he whispers. He moves his hand a bit closer, and the cat shies away. "It's okay," Marshall reassures, "I'm not going to hurt you."
The cat pauses, before limping forward and taking a reluctant lick of the candy. The cat licks it again, and then again, until the mint is small enough to chew and Marshall's hand is relatively sticky.
The boy laughs, wiping his palm on his jeans, and then scratching the animal behind her ears. Her left eye is a bright green.
"You're a stray, aren't you?" Marshall asks quietly. The cat rubs her head against his head in response, beginning to purr. Marshall hums.
"Thought so. I guess that means you don't have a name. How about Benatar," he suggests, "since Pat Benatar is fucking awesome, and so are you."
Benatar blinks at Marshall, who picks her up and sets her on his thighs. "Don't you get cold without fur?" He strokes her back, and Benatar's purring grows louder, eyes beginning to droop. "You're tired, huh?" Marshall asks. "I would be too, if I had to fight my way through every day... but I think I already am."
Marshall falls silent, darkening. He gently places a drowsy Benatar in a box near the dumpster, then looking around until he comes across a dirtied towel. He wraps it around the cat, smiling, before giving her one last scratch on the chin.
He straightens out and readjusts his book bag strap. "See ya, Benatar," he says to the slumbering stray. He leaves the other two mints in the box, hoping Finn and Fionna won't mind.
Just as he turns the corner to go on the sidewalk again, he hears a meow. Marshall stops, looking over his shoulder, his left hand in his pocket, turning his lighter around. Benatar's head pokes through the towel and she stares at him, one eye blue, the other green, as if asking where are you going?
Marshall swallows and suddenly thinks of his father. He walks away, putting his ear buds back in. He skips Jesse James and presses forward, stomach lurching as he hears the first few lyrics of the song.
Love, love is strange.
Lot of people take it for a game.
A/N: Just an insanely short filler chapter. First pivotal event is happening next chapter, as well as a new original character, who's one of Gumball's close friends.
Sorry for the late update. The holidays had me busy and then I couldn't find my flashdrive. I'll use the rest of break to write the next chapter. Hope everyone had an amazing Christmas and New Years.
Thanks for all the reviews and faves and alerts so far.
Also, I have an archiveofourown account now. Same username. This story's up there as well now too.
Review?
Ugh I just really like Dirty Dancing omfg.
PS: We'll be seeing Benatar again.