~+~
Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?
~+~

Look, I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see...that."

You didn't respond to him. Your arms squeezing you tighter as you continue to walk silently. Your head tilted towards the ground, concentrating solely on the pad of the grass beneath your feet rather than your boyfriend's heavy words.

You two couple had been walking through your thick silence the moment after they had left the Door Lord's treasury. Marshall had promised he'd go retrieve your lost treasure but you didn't want him to go alone, especially not on such an awesome adventure where you were sure you'd finally get to fight alongside Fiona and Cake.

Lee was incredibly hesitant, not exactly sure if his girlfriend could hold her own considering that she was only the 2nd human to ever grace Aaa.

But you were pretty stubborn- no scratch that. You were REALLY stubborn and went anyway. Marshall floated right by your side the entire journey, sneering and teasing you, but simmering you down with affectionate pecks and small nuzzles. He even shielded you from the Sun's searing rays with the help of his insanely large yellow sunhat. You watched the complicated scenes unfold with trial and error. Everyone had taken a part in trying to open the gate with a song that would appeal to the door.

Even you yourself had attempted it, an emotional conflict with yourself while reminiscing how you feel meaningless in a world full of extravagances, one full of such insatiable wonders and magics that you knew you were powerless against. You felt incredibly out of place, hopeless and insufficient. You had hoped your song had gotten the point across to everyone, hoping that instead of treating you like a child, they would help toughen you up and train you to survive in the mystical land that is, Aaa.

The most exhilarating part of it all was watching the door react to your words, the bright illuminated smiles of the gate humming softly before growing in volume with your every word. Your mistake was looking back to gaze at Marshall for reassurance. Oozing in your newfound confidence, hoping to see his face full of shock and amazement at just how useful you could be in these kinds of situations. You wanted him to know that you could do it, that you're not extra baggage: that you were useful.

But your train of thought was shattered once seeing him gazing at Prince Gumball. He looked at him as if he was the only person in the world. As if the words coming from your heart were being filtered through his own head and being projected onto Gumball. As if your words were meant for him. The thought had your voice slowing and your mood turning.

You knew that the two had a past, Marshall had told you once he admitted that he was jealous when you and the Prince were flirting one day. You quote remembering, "Seeing my hot ex and the sexy new girl flirting doesn't sit right with me. From now on, flirt with me instead, Pretty Girl." It was strange then, seeing him so upset over something so minor, especially when you had no real attachment to him then. Then, you thought he was jealous of you and wanted your attention instead of giving it to another guy; but you couldn't help but wonder if it were the other way around.

When the gleaming smiles faded, everyone's attention snapped on you, confused to why your song had ceased. The Prince and the girls seemed shocked, but that then morphed into worry upon seeing your gloomy expression. You brushed it off as nothing and smiled, claiming that you ran out of lyrics and proceeded to go tongue-tied. Everyone sighed and proceeded to try to again. You held yourself and tread into a rocky corner. 'Great going, Dumbass. You blew it.'

It was now Lee's turn to step up to the plate, revving his bass and floating atop the gate. His sensual rock tone was truly a sight to behold, he seemed so confident, not caring of the bitter gaze of Gumball and not aware of your own. The situation blows, tremendously.

Having to watch your boyfriend give a backwards serenade to the pink prince had your gut swirling into a nauseating frenzy of jealousy and heartbreak. Maybe you were being dramatic, you thought; definitely reading too much into the lyrics and knowing that he was here for you, is what you tried to convince yourself with.

The lyrics got more emotional and there was definitely something personal behind them, all of it pointing back to Gumball. All of his words were directed to the baffled pink prince. Your eyes began to sting with tears and it was then that you decided that you weren't going to put yourself through this anymore. Having had enough, you push yourself off the ground and storm away, the Vampire's song still strummed loud with each step you took, even when you were out of sight.

What hurt most was that no one tried to stop you, too captivated in Marshall's words to even notice you were gone. You silently begged to hear a fleet of footsteps, to hear Marshall, or anyone for that matter scream your name and beg you to return with them. You hoped to pour your guts out to them, even hesitate and tell white lies just to see if they could see through them just as you could theirs. But alas, the only footsteps you heard were your own, the gravel beneath your sneakers crumbling just as your heart did.

Once you were out of the canyon, you decided to let the tears fall, the searing feelings of worthlessness and jealousy burning through you like a red hot iron, though nothing could compare to the violent squeeze of your heart.

It felt as if it was being ripped from your chest and stomped on with jagged metal cleats. You couldn't fathom how stupid and betrayed you felt. What were you to him really? Was he ever over Gumball? Were you ever anything more to him than a pretty face? Is this the end?

About 15 minutes after walking, you had stumbled upon a small grove of trees and decided to take a small break there. You approached a tree and pressed your back against it, taking a few sharp breaths before allowing them to go shaky. The shaky breathing leads to a quivering lip, and with a bitter contortion of your face you found yourself sliding down the tree. The scratchy bark scraping and pinching your skin, but they were nothing compared to the cacophony of emotions you had succumbed to.

"Stupid," you thought aloud, "so fucking stupid." You choked, now seated on the ground, pulling your knees to your chest and allowing broken sobs to fall into your lap. Your body raked with uncertainty and betrayal, maybe they were rekindling at this very moment. Hugging, kissing, and whispering breathless 'I love you's' as you sobbed pathetically against an uprooted tree. Dramatic, you confirmed, you were being dramatic.

You had spent a while in your arms, desperately wishing they were those of your fanged lover. But alas, you knew it was too good to be true. You had pushed yourself up and started walking back to the cave you shared and called home, strategizing how you'd pack all your things and leave before he came home. Well, that was the plan anyway, but it had all been scrapped once you felt the familiar tickle of warm breath fan against your neck and ear.

You shivered involuntarily, but held your ground, drawing confusion from the Vampire when you didn't turn around and plant a kiss on him. He started teasing you, poking and propping at your body only to get nothing in response, not even an irritated 'piss off' or growl of his name. He kept it up a bit more, singing your name, nuzzling you, pinching, nipping, and a failed attempt at licking. He really got the point that she was upset when he had leaned in for a kiss, earning a hard shove that sent him to the grass. He was shocked to say the least, but brushed it off with strained humor and a pouty lip.

He grew worried, trying to piece together every possible case scenario that you could be mad at him for. He snickered at most, even having to bite his lip to stifle some of them. But his toothy grin began to die out, recalling being at the canyon and singing his song, realizing that you were gone after everyone had collected their things and left. Shit.

  Now here they were, lumps caught in the both of their throats as the heaviness of this torturous silent treatment weighed down on them both. The soft padding of your sneakers hitting the thick greenery beneath you was the only thing Marshall could focus on. If the deafening silence kept up, he was sure he'd go mad.

"Baby," he called in a gravelly voice, "please talk to me." He pleaded, cautiously hovering closer to you and placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder. You quickly retracted, shaking him off a bit and not-so-subtly putting more pep in your step. Your mind was racing, all the woes and the despair from before completely being masked in seething anger and devilish thoughts.

'No. Fuck you, Marshall. I'm packing my shit and I'm getting the hell out of dodge. You will NOT make a fool out of me!' Is what you wanted to say; wanting desperately to say those to his face but knowing that your swelling emotions would only be displayed in its most unpolished stages. You were sure that you would be unable to speak what you were feeling (let alone his name) without incoherent blubbering through a mess of snot and tears. You'd scream and cry in hysteria before he could translate a word you were saying. It's best if she just bottled and up and waited for the right time to explode like the ticking time bomb she is.

Marshall grew more and more worried by the second. He really blew it, he knows that. He doesn't know what came over him, he just wanted to get your necklace and bounce. That was the plan. When he saw Gumball...he didn't know what happened. He could've swore he had buried those feelings decades ago, so why now did he have to go on a rant like that?
After all the bullshit and heartache he's been afflicted to, why would he be so weak and vulnerable at a time such as that? With not only his friends watching, but his girlfriend. He couldn't even begin to imagine how you were feeling right now.

You probably feel sick, discarded, angry, confused, frustrated, and second-hand. He knows how that feels, he knows what it's like to feel like you're at the back of someone's head, a mere suggestion instead of a priority. He's dealt with that for so long, he wouldn't dare wish such a feeling of hopelessness and heartbreak on anyone, so how could he inflict such pain on someone he loves?

He's sorry, he's so so sorry. The words running through his head are what he longs to say, but he knows when push comes to shove he'll crack under pressure. He was never good with confrontation, all the words, feelings, and emotions that were bottled within him would come out in a heated pile of unintelligible mush that would only hurt you more. He doesn't know what to do.

He wants you to know how much you mean to him, he doesn't want to go home and be shut out of your heart. The silent walk of shame already has him spiraling out of sanity, who knows what'll happen when the two of you step through the door of your home. He begs the Cosmic Owl not to take you away from him, please don't shut him out. He doesn't want to be alone again...

A dark shadow had casted itself over Marshall and darkened his train of thought, looking up he had realized that they were in the cave, and meters away was the home he shared with you. You didn't hesitate to push the door open and let yourself in, not forgetting to slam the door in the vampire's face. He grimaced at the action, his lifeless heart sinking even further down his heavy torso. Swallowing his unease, he lifted a shaky hand towards the door knob and gave it a slow turn before pushing it open and letting himself in.

It's funny. The moment he floated through the familiar salmon walls he immediately felt out of place. The floor was ridden of all sound that made this place even remotely tolerable. He felt alone, locked within a hideous pink tomb that he and another called home. The word itself felt foreign in his mind.

At the back of the living room wall there lie a ladder, the sound of rustling and shuffling had his ears perking in curiosity. Feeling heedful, he swallowed a bit more of his unease and shook himself off. He's the Vampire King after all, maybe asserting his dominance with a chill demeanor is what you need to see. Maybe showing her how unbothered he is by the entire situation will ease her. You'll understand that Gumball meant nothing and that you were still his Pretty Girl.

With one last boost of confidence, he ascended towards the trapdoor and pushed it open, casually floating over to the bed and hovering above it in a lazy kick backed position. "Whatcha doin, Pretty Girl?" He purred, his forced timbre sending a cringed shiver zooming down his spine and nearly making him gag. This was harder than he thought it would be and he's barely made it through Stage 1: Getting you to acknowledge him.

Upon not receiving a response, he eyed your antics, her back facing him and leaving it up to his curiosity to investigate. Through the thick tension, he begrudgingly floated towards you, forcing a smirk to his fanged mouth and preparing to coo her until his face fell. The sight of you grabbing your travel pack and tools had sent his chest convulsing. On instinct, he dropped his 'cool guy' persona and zoomed over to you, grasping gently onto your sides and pulling you away from the door with caution.

"What're you doing?" He queried, trying to turn you around only to have you shake him off with a click of your tongue. The action frustrated him more than confused him, truly his demon eyes weren't deceiving him. After receiving a scoff, his hand jerked from his control and latched itself onto the teen's arm when seeing you return to your travel bag. He asked you again, his voice dying out and cracking mid-sentence.

"What's it look like, Lee? I'm packing." You asserted bitterly, yanking clothes from the thinned wooden hangers and shoving them into the bag. Marshall couldn't process your words, it was as though he had spoken in a completely new tongue that he himself had weirdly understood. He sifted them once, then twice, thrice, and even when hitting quadruple his brain still wouldn't allow him to register your comprehensible words.

"Leaving..." The words tasted putrid on his tongue, the syllables practically searing pungent holes into his pronged tongue and leaving such a bitter aftertaste that he truly felt nauseous. His mind replayed the phrase over and over again, debunking and recoding the words in his mind as if they were a scrambles children's puzzle. He tasted the word once more, forcing it from his lips and allowing it to take his breath the second it left his lungs.

He had spent so much time registering the few simple words that when he went to tighten his grip on your arm his fingers clutched nothing but air, his girlfriend now completely absent from the upper floor. It wasn't till he heard the creak of the floorboards downstairs that he snapped from his statue-like state.

He zoomed out of the floor, quite literally almost ripping the trapdoor from the hinges when he threw it open to zoom downstairs, practically getting his foot caught in the ladder when breezing by. Now, he stood before his  now startled girlfriend, his chest was heaving, small beads of sweat having been forming in his temples as he threw his arms up to shield you from the door. "What are you doing!?" His voice came out airy and breathless, as if floating through the tiny house had actually exerted him.

"Out of my way, Marshall!" He shook his head.

"You're trying to leave me!"

"No, I'm GOING to leave you."

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"

"Well it DID and there's nothing else that needs to be said!"

"I wish I could take it back!"

"No, you DON'T! You only feel bad because I saw it! You were CAUGHT, Marshall!"

"No, that's not true!! I want you!"

"You want HIM!

"NO, I-" His voice started to break, if he had a live heart he swore it would have beat through his chest by now. His chest was heaving like a madman, his body quivering violently as he struggled to function. The situation was unstable, he was unstable, his skin was prickling and his vision was blurring. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how to...anything. All he wanted was to reach out to you, to touch you and erase this situation from ever happening. He was lost, unable to do anything with the avalanche of feelings and emotions flowing out of him all at once.

"PLEASE! Please…" Help, I don't know what's happening…

"Please what, Marshall? Are you going to sing me a little break up song? Maybe lie to me some more? Well, news flash ASSHOLE, I'm done with putting up with THIS. With YOU!" You knew better; you were trying your best to keep it kurt, though a sick feeling clawed its way into your chest. You were fully aware of your words, knowing the weight they held and the damage they could do, especially to someone who was already clearly torn up about hurting you. You took it upon yourself to worsen that pain, twisting the knife just a tad bit more until he bled more for you. Maybe then you'd accept his apology.

You wanted for him to feel only a fraction of what you felt in this very moment. If you could make him feel small and weak, insignificant and useless for a moment- only for a moment, then you'd do just that. You couldn't hurt alone anymore, so seeing him visibly wounded and begging for you brought a sick sense of satisfaction to you.

"NO! It was nothing like that! He was never around! He left me and I wanted to be happy! I didn't think I had feelings for him! I DON'T, but- oh my glob, there's just so much going on right now and I just can't-"

"Can't? Can't what? What CAN'T you do, hm? So what, you still want him!? You've always wanted him, haven't you? Was there ever any room for me? For US!?" You dug the stake in even deeper than before, teetering on the fine line of guilt and sadism, your sharp and painful words bringing a candy-like taste to your tongue. Though, your heart was against the putrid flavor. You desperately wanted to spit it out, your heart bleeding for him as it begged you to just leave it where it was and let him be till you're gone, give you both time to think this out with empty heads. But you were far too gone now, your mind addicted to the same poisonous drug your tongue had indulged in.

He began tangling his fingers in his hair, he couldn't think. You wouldn't let him think. His muddled mind had all the answers, they held all his truths, but it was so damn frustrating to get to when there was so much screaming. He could practically feel his brain swelling with everything he needed. He loves you, he loves you. You know he loves you, right? Why aren't you letting him love you? He fucked up, he's in some major shit now, yet he can't argue, can't defend himself. He feels as if he's mentally incapable of sorting through his own thoughts right now.

His mouth moved for him, completely on default and filtering the bigger phrases into smaller ones to keep him from overheating. His fingers tightened, his pointed ears amplifying the tiny tears and snaps of his hair and making them sound like an avalanche of gunshots and missiles. His head was truly spiralling into a battlefield. Never in the past hundred years had he lost his cool like this, had he lost his mind like this. He can recall the few times when he had been treading on the edges of sanity, each time growing more extreme than the last.

"Then what was I, Marshall!? Good enough!? Fiona didn't want you, so you just went to the next human willing to take you right? Anyone with legs and a hole met your qualifications, right?" Your voice lost its thunderous tone, your personal pleasure in the situation dying out quickly as you watched the man before you crumble into himself, his pale hands leaving his hair and circling himself as he backed into the door and shook his head.

"Baby, please, I can fix this. I CAN FIX THIS, GODDAMNIT! YOU CAN'T LEAVE! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO!" He grounded himself into the door, his head thudding against the wood so loud that you yourself had flinched at the impact, your own skull thrumming. Your heart was sinking, whatever guilty pleasure you had gotten from the situation had depleted completely into nothingness, your fiery emotions simmered and were soon replaced with pain. Raw, unfiltered pain as you watched the vampire spiral away from sanity. He wailed violently, his eyes shut so tight that she was sure his lids would split under the pressure alone. He was mumbling words beyond your compression, you were sure that most of what he was mumbling had to be in foreign tongue; whether it be a language of Aaa or one of the Nightosphere, you didn't know.

What you were sure of, was that the situation has clearly gotten out of hand. What was meant to be a dramatic, movie-styled break up that would lead to him writing a song about his emotions that would bleed into a love song about. One where he'd travel through the night to sift through his unsorted emotions and whatnot that would lead him to Gumball's Castle. You pictured them arguing and Gumball calling the Banana Guards on him before they inevitably settled their unresolved breakup. You hoped that by morning, you'd wake up in your old shack with Marshall standing above you with a drained creme puff and shit-eating grin. You'd kiss, you'd fuck, you'd make up. Simple, right?

Well, to say that backfired was an understatement. This confrontation had spiralled into an uncontrollable shit show of Marshall's sanity being at stake. Your intentions were to hurt him, to make him question who he wanted to be with, for him to pick who his undead heart belonged to. But now, you weren't even sure he knew where he was, how far back was his mind projecting him? Could he even see you anymore? Did he know he was here?

"Just PLEASE let me fix this! I'm going to FIX THIS!!" His head hit the door again, this time intentional as he did it again, and again, and again. He continued to do so until the old wood had caved, beginning to form a splittery, head-sized dip in. At this, you sprinted over, tossing your bag aside and using your hand to cushion his head from the door.

"I'm going to FIX THIS! YOU CAN'T GO!" He continued to repeat himself, his head drawing forward before crashing back into the door, your strategically placed hand did as intended, to cushion his head's impact from the door, though you hadn't completely thought it through. The moment his head met your palm, the back of your hand was jabbed with chipped wood. You let out a loud hiss, your jaw dropping to release a silent cry; it was only when he repeated the action once more, did you give a louder reaction.

"MARSHALL!!" You screamed. He reacted instantly to your voice, his eyes snapping open and allowing fat red globs of substance to pour past his eyes and spill down his cheeks. He sucked in a sharp breath, he wore a stupididous  expression as his eyes scanned the room; it was  as if he wasn't sure how he got there, or hell- if he even knew where he was. You brought his attention back to you when you swiped at his red tears, more replacing the ones you removed.

His chest heaved lightly, shallow breaths escaping his slightly parted lips as he stare down at you with rudy irises and blackened scleras. He didn't say anything, you watched his face twitch every now and then. He was here, you knew that for sure, but you didn't know how much of him had returned. Slowly, he raised his right hand; his nails now elongated into those that resembled claws. Carefully, he hooked his index finger under your chin, something he did often when wanting to tease you and/or kiss you.

He held you there for a moment, only for a moment, before he slowly swiped his thumb under your eye. Something flashed in his eyes as he did that, a flash that made your stomach flutter in familiarity. He brought his thumb to his mouth, his pronged tongue slipping past his pale lips before finding his thumb. You blinked at him, confusion painting your face as you watched the corners of his lips twitch.

"Even your tears are sweet." He smirked, the sick gesture growing wider upon seeing the way your jaw dropped.

Your mind had gone blank, your brows tight with confusion as he removed your hand from his shoulder (where it had fallen) and brought it up to his face. He stared down at it, his body notably stiffening at the sight of your hand littered in small dollops of blood and wood. He grimaced, his throat bobbing and his eyes fluttering. Hesitantly, he lowered it from his face, an awkward smile now present on his tense features. Slowly, he backed away from the door, his hands hovering over your body with great caution until both of you were now in the middle of the living room.

"Let's get that cleaned up, Blood Bag."

~+~
Maybe my sorry wasn't good enough...
~+~

Oop-!

Not an actual upload😱