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Neon Moon
chapter twenty four

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❛ being strong, holding on. can't
let it bring us down. my life with
you means everything. so, i won't
give up that easily. ❜
— It's Not Over, Daughtry

                    SHE HAD TWO OPTIONS. Option number one being that she could take the money, take the car, and get the hell out of dodge. She could find Scott, find Kate, and maybe make a difference rather than fighting constantly with Seth while he rides his high. Or she could follow after him. Go back to the motel and force him to kick the drugs, to get his head out of his ass, and maybe find the people she feels inclined to find. Kate, Scott, Richie. One of the three would be better than nothing.

          She almost left. She had gotten into the car and driven off, avoiding the rearview mirror like a bad movie. It was karma, really. Seth had left her first, it was only fair for her to do the same. But that isn't Marisol. She doesn't give up; she doesn't just leave.

          She parked the car outside of the motel. The engine shut off, along with the air conditioning. She yanked off the sunglasses from her face and hooked them onto the front of her shirt. She was almost positive Seth was back. He had to be, unless he had died. The car dinged as she pushed open the door. The warm air burned her skin as she exited out the car and out into the sunshine.

          Her fingers slipped into her back pocket where her room key still remained. She prepared herself. Whatever was behind that door could break her heart. Seth could be there, alive or ripped apart. He could be cold, unmoving, void of life. Covered in his own vomit. Or he could not be there at all. He could have ditched everything for a new start, just like they had agreed the morning they escaped the descent into Hell.

The key fit perfectly. Silence ensued. Her breath caught in her throat. And then the lock slid back. The door gave under her weight. In a heap on the bed lay Seth Gecko, covered in a sheen of sweat. She swallowed back a cry, panic electrifying her nerves. Slowly, she entered the motel room. The door closed swiftly behind her. Eyelids fluttered. "Seth," she called out, her voice cracking with emotion. She could see his eyelids move.

          "Seth," she tried again, and this time his eyes opened. Only for a second, the muscles in his face twitching. Discomfort bled onto his features. "Seth," she called one last time, dropping the idea of safety and rushing to his bedside. His eyes cracked open once more, holding her gaze. "M–Mari." Cracked lips struggled to form around her name. "You... came back."

          Fingertips grazed his cheek ever so gently. "When have I ever ditched you when you needed me most?" she replied, her tone half amused and half broken. Her palm kissed his skin. He was burning up. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Her pulse beat against his fingerprints like a steady drum. Gently, his lips pressed to the inside of her wrist. "Why'd you come back?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin.

          Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. "I couldn't leave you," she admitted. "Not now. Not ever." She ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. He glanced back up at her eyes when suddenly his eyes doubled in size. His breath began to pick up, fear flashing within his eyes. Marisol watched, stunned by his sudden change. "Seth? Are you—"

          His hand thrusted out, capturing her throat within his iron grip. She sputtered in shock. The hand that once caressed his face now tore into his forearm. "Seth!" she croaked, nails biting into the flesh of his arm. Wild eyes stared back at her before he forced her onto her back, pinning her to the bed. Her free hand moved to his chest in a futile attempt to push him away.

          "You're one of them!" he shouted, saliva splattering against her face. The lack of oxygen was starting to make her vision blur. "No," she cried out. Tears seeped beyond the corners of her eyes and down her head. "No, Seth." She gasped for air, forcing one hand against his face. Her thumb moved until it thrusted into his eye. The pain was enough to have him reeling backward, promptly releasing her to cover his wound. She quickly scrambled off of the bed and toward the key she had dropped onto the floor.

          "Stay back!" she warned him, brandishing the aluminum key. Seth stared, heaving breaths. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" she asked. "I'm not one of them! I'm– I'm Marisol. Mari." She winced at the waver in her tone, at the emotions that betrayed her. Tears continued to pelt down her face as the two squared off.

          Seth wasn't sure what to believe. He was positive he had noticed the scales for her skin, the slits in her eyes. They had turned yellow just before him before she went to brandish her new weapons. "Prove it," he demanded, breathless, fearful. She scoffed. "How?! By not drinking your blood? Walking out into sunlight? How?!"

          He heaved in a hefty breath. The air felt nice in his lungs. "The sunlight sounds good," he replied. She could throttle him. A big part of her wanted to get one good lick in as payback. But she huffed and kept the key between them. If he advanced, she'd put it in his eye or in his throat. "Okay. I need to get my stuff anyway." His eyes followed her warily. The idea of his Marisol being one of them was enough to knock the breath out of him, steal the strength from his legs. He would have collapsed if he hadn't been so terrified of dying.

          They were now in opposite sides of the room. Seth stood by the bed, Marisol at the door. She grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open, yellow rays hitting the toes of her sneakers. She didn't look away as she exited the room. Seth breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared outside. She was safe. She was there, with him. He plopped back down onto the bed, head falling into his hands.

          He could hear the car door slam shut and the locking mechanism. Her footsteps was the next thing he focused on, followed by the closing of the motel door. Marisol stood there and cleared her throat. "Satisfied?" she inquired, tossing the bag of money onto the small table. His shoulders shook with the breath he took. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into his palms. "God, Mari. I am so sorry."

          "You say that so much, I think I should put it on your headstone," she teased, pulling out one of the chairs. He noticed her shadow inch toward him. He picked his head up, her hand outstretched between them. "I'm not– I don't plan on dying any soon," he reminded her. His palm fell into hers. She gave him a quick tug, helping him to his feet. "Well, good. Because neither do I, and I'm pretty sure we made a deal about a new beginning."

          He stood there, wavering slightly. "Here, sit down." She helped ease him into the wooden chair. Hands pressed to his shoulders, fingers digging gently into the muscles there. "I'm sorry," he echoed. "I'm sorry about before. About walking away." She rounded him, continuing to rub at his shoulders, his biceps, and down his arms. "You're a Gecko. Leaving is kind of you guys' thing," she replied. He sighed at the feeling of her fingers on him.

          "But not this time. I'm not going to let you disappear again." Suddenly, Seth felt something hard against his wrists. Marisol tugged at the cable, tightening it until Seth's wrists were bound together. Confused painted itself across the man's clouded face. "What the— What the fuck are you doing? Mari?"

          His eyes instantly dropped to the little black item in her hands. His heart began to work overtime. "You're getting clean, Seth," she informed him. Her deft fingers made headway with the zipper, exposing the contents inside. "Mari, baby. You don't have to do this. I can get clean on my own. I know—"

          "You're killing yourself." Her brows fell over her eyes. Seth tugged at the restraints. The vein in his neck began to poke out. "Don't you fucking dare, Marisol. I'll– If you flush that–" She took out the small baggie, dropping its container onto the table. She didn't need to worry about the needle or the rubber tourniquet. "Marisol! Don't! Please!"

          She palmed it, breaking her eyes away from the teary eyed man before her. His face was growing redder by the second as panic and anger fueled his nerves. The bathroom light flickered on above her head. His pleas grew exponentially, but he never threatened her. He didn't have the guts to. She dropped the baggie into the toilet bowl and flushed, watching as it disappeared down the pipe. "Marisol! Fuck!"

          The legs of the chair was scraping against the floor as he struggled. "Fuck! Fuck you. Fuck you, Marisol. You– You don't fucking care about me," he sneered. She stood at the bathroom doorway, finally meeting his eyes once again. A hatred sat there that she had never seen before. Not pointed at her. "You're just too chicken shit to be alone. What? Scared no one else will love you?"

          "That's the drugs talking," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. He scoffed. Veins began to pop out of his forehead. "You don't know me as well as you think you do, baby. I can promise you that." She swallowed. A rock seemed to settle within her stomach. What was he implying?

          His head lurched forward. Tears began spilling over his sweat stricken face. "I'm going to get something to eat. We have enough money to tide us over until the drugs have completely flushed out of your system." The switched clicked and the bathroom was once again shrouded in darkness. She pulled the door closed just in case. "Don't... don't do anything stupid until I get back. Okay?"

          She watched him for a moment. He sat there, tears pelting onto his light blue boxers and the skin of his thighs. He was silent, shoulders moving as he tried to steady his breathing. When he didn't answer, Marisol decided that it was time. She needed to get out of there. To get a breather. She hated seeing Seth like this. "I love you," she told him. He visibly winced at the sureness of her tone. She didn't wait for him to say it back.

          He wasn't going to.

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A gentle knock rapped at the door before it was pushed open. The take out bag crinkled in her hand, car keys jingled noisily against one another. Marisol used the heel of her shoe to shut the door behind her. "I got burgers," she announced, finally looking up from the floor.

          "Damn. What happened?" The bag of food was tossed onto the table. Seth was breathing like he had just woken from a nightmare. Marisol rounded him, slipping her fingers between the knot of the tether to release him. "Are you okay?" She asked. Seth hurriedly sat up, palms flat against the floor. His head turned toward her, eyes meetings hers. "He was here," he whispered.

          Confusion swept across her features. Hesitantly, she reached for him. Her palm grazed his sweaty cheek. "Who was here?" she asked, her voice gentle. He leaned into her touch, eyes blinking madly. "The guy looking for Richie." Her eyes shot over his head. Swiftly, Marisol stood to her feet. She picked up the chair along with her before stepping around Seth.

          He felt as if his heart was an Edgar Allen Poe story. The blinds drew back. "When?" she asked. He sucked in a breath. His head snapped in different directions, taking in the room. It hadn't changed since she left. "Before you came in," he admitted, swallowing. Marisol peeked out the window, all around the parking lot. She was fairly certain that an intruder wouldn't have ran that guy off. He had killed without trouble back at the mercado.

          "He was here asking about Richie again." Seth sat there, his nerves feeling as if they had been fried. His brain was still foggy. Marisol sighed, moving the blinds back to their previous place. "Babe. It wasn't real," she explained gently. "It was the drugs. They're making you hallucinate." He shook his head defiantly. "No. No, I was on the floor because he picked me up and dropped me. He was here."

          He truly believed it. That much was certain. Marisol began to pull back her hair. "Okay," she replied. "Okay. He's gone now. So, why don't we eat? I got burgers, onion rings. No drink, though. But I can get some water." She crossed the room, hands meeting his. She helped him to his feet, into his chair once more. He ripped the bag toward him, hoping for something. Anything to help scratch the itch. "Fuck," he whispered. "Why didn't– Please, Mari. I need some. Just a little. Please."

          She pulled up a chair next to him, brows pinched. "No, Seth. We're doing this cold turkey." Clammy hands captured her biceps. Teary eyes looked back at her. "Just give me some, okay? Just give me a little. I'm–"

          "Seth..."

          "I'm on the clock here," he informed her. Marisol shook her head. "Baby, you're not on anything. You're safe. I got you." His hands took her wrists. She frowned. "Seth, I'm here. And I'm not going to let anything get you." She withdrew one arm and forcibly took his chin in her hand. "Look at me."

His eyes landed on hers. "You can do this. You're Seth Gecko, motherfucker." A small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. It was short lived as another wave of panic washed over him. He withdrew her hands from him, exhaling a breath. "I'm on the clock," he told her. She fell silent as he turned to the table. Seth took apart his gun with ease, setting the pieces down onto the table top. "I'm on the clock," he whispered again.

          A pucker formed between his brows. "No," he whispered. His head lifted, eyes meeting hers. But it didn't feel like he was looking at her. "No, no, no, no." He began scrambling to piece together the gun. Marisol sat up, worry cinching her face. "Seth," she whispered, afraid that she might frighten him. It was then that he turned to her, palm pressing to her chest before his arms wrapped tight around her.

          One hand in her hair, the other keeping her firm against him. She held him tight, pressing a kiss to his head. "You're okay," she whispered. "We're okay." His shuddering breath warmed her skin. A soft hand moved through his hair. She could feel the tension grow in his muscles. He shoved her back, reaching for his now reassembled gun. The barrel stared her down as the hammer clicked repeatedly.

Her heart hammered inside of her chest. The front legs of her chair left the floor. She squeezed her eyes closed, praying silently that he'd realize what he was doing. Another click, the gun wavering in his uncertain grasp. "Oh– Oh, my God," Seth exhaled in disbelief. "Mari, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She nodded her head. She knew that he was. She knew that he wasn't in the right mind. She released a shuddering breath. "Deja vu," she joked, placing a hand on his. He set aside the gun, far away, shaking his head. "Shut up," was all he could muster as he wrapped her up into his arms again. She held him close, nuzzling her face into his neck.

          It was nice being close to him again. Like this. Even if he had just tried to shoot her in the face.

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          In all of the haze, there was one name that continued to show up in repeat. Seth was missing Richie, even if he didn't want to admit it. Marisol rolled over in bed, arm searching the space next to her for Seth. It had been a while since she had gotten a proper night's rest. A soft sigh left her lips, palm rolling over the cool sheets.

Her eyes flickered open to see the opposite side of the bed empty. She blinked, glancing around her curiously. "Seth?" she called out, sitting up. The room seemed empty. She slung the blankets off of her and slipped out of the bed. "Seth?" she tried again, heel of her hand digging at the sleep in her eyes. Her other hand reached for the robe strewn over the back of one of the chairs. She didn't bother to put on a pair of pants, instead choosing the cover herself modestly with the blue and white striped robe.

She was a bit surprised to find him outside. The sound of the door had his head turning to look behind him. "What are you doing awake?" she asked. "Did you have another nightmare?" He tapped his finger against the crystal glass, focusing back on the horizon. Yellow light bathed his skin in its glow. "You okay?"

Her hand slid over his shoulder. His muscles tensed. "I don't ever want to to through that again," he admitted, taking a sip from his glass. She slinked up next to him, a sympathetic haze within her eyes. "I'm sorry," she exhaled. "But you made it out. You did so well, baby."

He shook his head. She let her hand travel up to run her fingers through his hair. Seth's free hand reached around her, maneuvering her toward him. "That cowpoke showed up in my dreams." She lowered herself onto his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "And... I kept seeing you. Dead or... snake like." His arm held her waist tight, squeezing her side with his words. She trailed a finger along the shell of his ear. "I'm very much alive. Right here, with you."

"I was married." His words were abrupt and out of left field. Marisol's lips parted in surprise. Seth had gotten married. He loved someone else after her. "It didn't last long. She was... she was a real spitfire. Brunette. Total smoke show." She tensed. Hearing him describe another woman made her stomach feel sick. "It was a Vegas thing. Not in Vegas, but it was quick and we didn't really think about it. Richie and I were on the outs.."

"I don't– I'd really rather not hear this," she admitted. She appreciated the honesty, or at least she would have later. Seth held her waist, finally turning his head to face her. "I'm telling you this, because I need you to know that it didn't work out... because I kept comparing her to you. Even when I left, I looked for you in everything. In the songs on the radio, the movies on late at night. I looked for you in people. But no one was you. No one ever compared."

She sighed. "...But what about Richie?" she asked. "We're great as a pair. But... it was always the three of us." He looked down, a frown anchoring his lips. His thumb ran along her side. "No. Richie made his bed. He chose those monsters." She took his face in her hand, a firm pressure on his chin. His eyes met hers. "No," he told her. "Not in a million fucking years. No matter how bad anyone wants it."

"Not even you?" she asked. She could feel his body tense beneath him. "You call out for him, at your lowest. It's always been los hermanos Gecko." He shook his head. Not anymore, he thought. She frowned. "I love you, Seth."

He set his glass aside, holding her waist to secure her to him. "It's you and me, Mari," he whispered. His free hand moved to caress her jaw. "We've got the money, the passports. We can get the hell out of here." His thumb ran over her chin. Marisol's eyes flickered from his to his lips. "We don't have Richie."

"Mari," Seth huffed. "Forget Richie. He's forgotten about us." Her brows pinched. She couldn't believe that. She was almost positive that Richie could never forget them. Even with his new life; his new existence. She wanted to argue. But the way he was looking at her now had her stomach tying into knots. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you and... I'm not going to lose you again."

She nodded her head. His palm met her cheek, fingers rolling gently over her skin. Their foreheads met in the middle. His breath fanned against her face. It smelled heavily of whiskey. "Seth," she whispered. His nose nudged hers. Before she could speak again, his mouth pressed to hers. His hand moved into her freshly washed hair.

          Her heart stuttered in her chest. Warmth spread beneath her skin. He hooked his arm beneath her legs and hoisted her up with ease. Lips traveled from hers to her cheek. "Seth," she tried again, a gasp slipping past her lips as her skin met the cool metal of the doorframe. "Just be here with me," he pleaded. "Please." He was shadowed by the light behind them. Her fingers toyed with the fabric of his tank top. She could almost feel his pulse beneath the skin. "Okay," she exhaled. "I'm here. I'm with you."

          He continued into their motel room. The door shut tight behind them. Her feet hit the carpet moments later. "Good," he said. Fingers moved to the cloth rope keeping her robe together. Her eyes followed his face, watching for any change in his expression. His eyes had visibly darkened. "Thank you... for coming back." Rough fingertips ran along the surface of her bare shoulders.

          Their gaze felt electrified. She blinked. In a flash, he was on her again. The robe slipped from her arms, falling into a puddle on the floor. Her hands moved to cradle his face, their lips moving in sync. She was grateful, too. She was grateful that she chose to follow her heart again. If she hadn't, there's no telling what would have happened to Seth. Or herself.

rumi says . . .
after what feels like forever, i
am finally back with a new update !
did you guys miss them ? i sure did.

this chapter took forever for me to
write. not sure why. it really isn't
all that and a bag of chips. but it fits
the story well and i enjoyed finally getting
all of the missing pieces together.

how was the chapter ?
what was your favorite part ?

i hope you guys enjoyed it!
feedback is seriously appreciated!