Trigger Warning: dissociation, panic attacks, brief implication of suicide

*

Note: We've finally reached these chapters 😭 Now that we've gotten to the part of Pretty Boy where Marshall is dealing with the most devastating loss he's ever experienced, I thought it would be good to inform you guys of my plan for the rest of this book. 

Seeing as Brad's death is so impactful to the story, I've decided that I'm going to continue through the rest of Eclipse (3 more chapters after this), the entirety of Breaking Dawn (4 chapters) and a single Post Credit scene that really hits it home for me in terms of Alejandro (Brad's reincarnation) and his role in Marshall's life. I'll then follow all of that up with Brad's Survival Arc - which is going to be pretty lengthy if I'm being honest. Like, I'm talking multiple chapters focusing on his transition, how he adapts to being a vampire, how his lifestyle changes, etc. 

The reason I'm doing Brad's Survival Arc after all that (with maybe a few Extras thrown in once it's done) is because I don't want to take away from the experience. I don't want to write out all of this super nice, heartwarming stuff, only to follow it with chapters talking about him not being alive. Brad's Survival Arc is going to feel and read like its own story, and I want it to end on a high note. So we're going to get all the canonical, sad, super heavy stuff out of the way first and switch gears once it's done.

All that being said: this chapter is going to focus on aspects of Marshall's grief that were actually cut out of the final draft because I didn't want to overwhelm you guys with a barrage of sadness. For real, I spared you a lot of heartache. And that says a lot considering how sad the main story is after Brad's death. I wanted to include this here, though, since the things that happen actually help to solidify the familial dynamic Marshall has with the pack. What follows are instances where each member helps Marshall deal with his grief in their own ways.

Also, because I'm evil, there's character art too.

You might want to grab your tissues 😭

***

Paul

Light snoring filled up the space of a crowded living room. Some people were frolicking in dreamland on the couch, while a few others occupied sleeping bags, air mattresses, or the occasional memory foam sleep sacks large enough to act as a suitable bed. The entire floor was darkened except for the green light coming from the stove's clock and the blue glow coming from the cable box. Silenced phones were scattered across the kitchen counter. A few leftover scraps from Chinese takeout still littered the surface of the dining table. Open windows brought in the scent of fresh rain, as well as crickets chirping into the night.

Upstairs, Paul's fingers traced along the right hand side of the bed. Cotton sheets felt warm to touch, meaning a certain someone had been away long enough for his frigid temperature to dissipate from its spot. A familiar scent lingered in his wake, however, meaning he hadn't been gone for a substantial amount of time.

Still, the thought worried Paul.

Marshall hadn't been doing well.

Brad's untimely death had transpired a mere few days ago. The substantial loss was still fresh. It was still difficult for anyone to talk about without feeling choked up.

But no one's pain was as encompassing—as crippling—as Marshall's.

He had no desire to hunt, so he hadn't been eating. Heavy bags lined his lower eyelids, shedding light on the mental and emotional exhaustion he was feeling. Irises blackened from starvation were always distant when peering into them.

He'd been spending a lot of time on the porch swing outside by himself. 

While everyone wanted to give him the necessary space, it was difficult to hold themselves back when heartbreaking, muffled sobs could be heard through the house's front door.

Sometimes, Marshall would ask to be comforted.

Other times, he hid, purposely pushing everyone away because he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness they were giving him.

That was probably why the vampire wasn't currently in bed.

Since everyone else had been sleeping, he didn't want to burden them with his problems and left to deal with them by himself.

Frowning, Paul sat up from his spot. The floor lightly creaked beneath his feet when rising to stand. Thin sheets fell over the edge of the bed and pooled near a pair of overturned cat slippers. A delicate warmth permeated from the wax burner sitting on a nearby dresser, hinting at the candle having either turned off or been blown out recently.

Beneath vanilla and pumpkin, a diluted fragrance of sweet copper could be picked up from the bathroom across the hall.

A ray of light was seen in the small crevice between the floor and the door. Slow droplets hitting water were heard. Aside from that, however, there weren't any residual signs of life to study.

Paul gave a gentle courtesy knock. When receiving no answer, he opened the door as slowly as possible in a nonverbal gesture of announcing his presence.

The sight before him was greeted with an understanding hum.

Marshall was lying down on his side in the bathtub, completely submerged. His knees were pulled to his chest with his chin tucked inward. Shifting water caused his hair, shirt, and shorts to sway around him. Both eyes were closed. One hand was used as a makeshift pillow to cushion his head. The other rested atop his leg with connected fingers holding onto the pawprint pendant of his choker.

Marshall had wanted Paul's aid; but since he'd been unavailable, the vampire found refuge by hiding himself away in a body of water.

It was an appropriate response considering the level of comfort he found when being near sites like oceans, rivers, and lakes. Plus, since being submerged also helped to dull the senses, Marshall might've also needed some time to calm down hyperactive stimuli.

Being overwhelmed by extra noises, sights, and smells probably heightened all of the suffocating feelings he couldn't control.

Paul reached out.

As soon as his hand made contact with Marshall's shoulder, black eyes opened.

They didn't move to see who was in the room.

They didn't have to.

Paul was careful as he climbed into the water as well, uncaring of how his pajamas were soaked. He sat down, settling against the back of the tub. Gentle hands maneuvered the vampire into a slightly more upright position. His head was propped against his husband's lower abdomen. The arrangement made it possible for Marshall to be supported without removing him from his protective bubble.

An arm wrapped around Paul's hips.

A hand nestled atop black waves, fingers massaging Marshall's scalp.

*

Leah

The rain felt nice.

With summer being in full swing, patrolling in a body constantly running at high heat surrounded by thick fur got annoying sometimes. Fortunately, with La Push experiencing more frequent storms as of late, there were more chilly, rainy days than sunny ones. Paws were able to find reprieve in cold puddles instead of trudging along hot patches of dirt. Wind was crisp and refreshing rather than pushing along the muggy air worsened by strong humidity.

The only part of the rainy season Leah wasn't a fan of was having to walk around in human form with mud-covered feet. Still, it wasn't serious enough to take away from the ease she felt when seeing a sky composed of dark gray.

The reason Leah was currently out and about was because she wanted to check in to see how Marshall was doing.

She wasn't really good when it came to helping people deal with their emotions. Nor was she one for talking to someone when the struggles of life became too much to handle. It was a lot easier to listen and be an open ear; but that was only possible if the person meant to be speaking actually had the strength to say anything.

Marshall's evident heartbreak often rendered him speechless. If he did say anything, his words only truly consisted of grieving wails further jumbled by his distressed sobs. Most times, he was silent. Trapped inside of a head whirling with thoughts he couldn't get out.

Leah could admit, even though their relationship had only mended recently, the sight of the pack's vampire in so much emotional turmoil actually hurt her.

Witnessing Marshall's depression hurt Leah because she wanted to help.

She just didn't know how.

A feeling of helplessness increased when breaking through the treeline in front of the Uley residence. 

Marshall's car was parked a short distance away from the yard. Headlights were off. Sleek metal was covered in translucent drops falling from the back bumper and foldable mirrors. 

The vampire himself was leaning against the car's hood. He was sporting his signature combat boots, a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, and a purple t-shirt too large to be his own. Every single article of clothing was completely soaked through. As was each strand of hair pressed against his scalp, pooling over his ears, and curtaining around his eyes.

His face was pointed toward the sky.

An unblinking, half-lidded gaze seemed...detached.

Even though he wasn't moving, Leah knew her friend—her beloved family member—was crying.

That was when a certain realization struck her.

Marshall didn't look like he wanted to speak. He looked like he needed an opportunity to just feel. To let out the pain he couldn't keep buried inside.

And Leah finally figured out that words weren't always necessary in order to help comfort someone.

So, without saying anything, she slowly approached the car with fumbling hands. A seat was taken on the hood as well. Their bare arms were close enough to brush against one another. It was unclear what rain droplets fell from which person.

Pursing her lips, Leah rested her head against Marshall's shoulder.

For a moment, he stiffened.

Then, as a pained whimper escaped him, he rested his head against hers.

*

Emily

Soft classical music resonated throughout the kitchen and dining room. All of the chairs surrounding a large circular table were pushed in. Place settings consisting of porcelain plates, cutlery, and glassware were in their rightful spots. The center was left open for a glass tin, currently in the oven, which housed baked potatoes and chicken drumsticks slathered in homemade BBQ sauce. A portion of seasoned green beans had already been made, being kept over low heat to ensure it didn't get cold.

While washing her hands, Emily peered into the dining room where the fabric bench was.

Marshall was sitting on the floor with his back pressed against a wooden leg. His head was resting on his knees. Black waves pooled over his forehead, making it difficult to see his face. His attention was drawn to the nature-filled scenery beyond an open front door.

His arms were wrapped around his legs. A loose grip was taken of the opposite elbow in a tired, solo embrace.

Marshall might not have asked for it, but Emily could tell he was silently begging for someone to sit with him.

Now, with dinner prep completed until the oven had to be emptied in half an hour, the vampire's unspoken wish could be fulfilled.

Emily turned off the tap with her elbow. A yellow rag hanging from a lower cupboard was used to dry her hands. Shuffling from house shoes accompanied her when exiting the kitchen into the dining room. Gentle strides guided her toward the fabric bench. A seat was taken, close enough for cold skin to settle against her bare leg.

Marshall's head was pulled into Emily's lap.

He adjusted his position to make it easier to lean a bit of weight against her.

She offered a tender smile, regardless of whether or not he could see it.

"I know that it's been a lot. I know that the pain you're feeling is...catastrophic. I know you feel conflicted, and even a little guilty, when trying to reach out for help." An affectionate hand began weaving through his hair. "But I am here for you if you need me, sweetheart. It's okay to need things. It's okay to need an anchor. It's okay for you to grieve."

Light trembles were met with another hand resting atop Marshall's shoulder.

"It's okay to cry too, honey."

As if the validating statement broke down his inner walls, tears sprung forth barely a second later. They came so fast, moisture immediately soaked into the fabric of Emily's shorts. Full body quivers picked up in intensity with each violent sob. Clenched fingers shielded Marshall's face to hide his vulnerable expression.

Emily wasted no time in moving to the floor.

She opened her arms and pulled Marshall close to her chest, cradling him.

He took a strong grip of the back of her shirt, clinging desperately.

"I've got you, Marsh. I've got you."

*

Jared

He might've come across as an inherently playful person; but when Jared was given a task, he always made sure to take it seriously.

As second in command, he'd become accustomed to keeping an eye out for his fellow pack mates. Ensuring everyone's safety was of vital importance, so it was second nature to remain hypervigilant. Changes in breathing patterns, tensed forms, expressive eyes—there weren't many physical cues that could escape Jared's gaze if he felt they were important enough to address.

That was why, when receiving the assignment to watch over Marshall while Paul ran for patrol, Jared made sure to observe as closely as possible.

And for good reason.

Marshall had the habit of spacing out lately. It didn't ever last for more than a few minutes. Unfortunately, whenever a blank stare gained some life back, fear was always present. Sadness and anxiety were close companions as well. 

Paul had been honest when admitting Marshall was prone to night terrors and flashbacks because of his PTSD.

Those struggles only worsened after losing Brad.

It was difficult to keep the vampire out of his head when the slightest stimulation could send him careening into an unwelcomed, vivid memory pertaining to his best friend's death.

Still, Jared was prepared to intervene at any point while watching Marshall clean up some dishes.

Ever since his initial panic attack a few days ago that had been triggered by a glass breaking in his hand, reminding him of Brad's skin doing the same, several people were hesitant to let Marshall do certain chores.

But it was another one of his coping mechanisms. And if there was one thing they didn't want to take away from him, it was the ability to find solace in a time where everything was fractured.

So Jared let his friend be.

Marshall was in the middle of scrubbing a pan, though, when his elbow knocked into the dish detergent. It was pushed off of the counter. The container landed in the trash bin in need of a new bag. A few eggshells sitting on top of the mound were further crushed by the weight of the bottle.

Faint cracks sounded like shattering concrete against the stillness of the room.

Marshall froze.

His eyes widened.

The hand holding onto the sponge clamped. Hard.

Jared was on his feet without thinking about it.

Running water was turned off. A metal pan was left to sit at the bottom of the sink. Gentle fingers wrapped around the vampire's wrist.

His trembles were violent.

"Are you able to let go?"

Marshall didn't answer. The question had to be repeated in a slightly louder voice for him to shake his head in response.

"That's okay. C'mon- let's..."

Jared guided them to sit on the floor. Their backs were pressed up against the cold stove. Socked feet were kicked out and made contact with textured wood of cabinet doors. Hands of differing temperatures joined with a paler one being sandwiched in between two of a darker complexion.

Marshall clenched with enough strength to leave bruises.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry- fuck!- I can't-"

"It's okay," Jared answered with a soothing tone. "You don't have to worry about anything. Just keep listening to the sound of my voice until we're able to calm you down, okay? That's all you need to do. I'll take care of everything else."

Marshall nodded, eyes becoming hazy.

Jared continued talking to help stave off an impending flashback.

*

Sam

Marshall was missing.

Paul sent out a frantic group text about how the couple had fallen asleep together; but upon waking up a few hours later, Marshall was gone. He was nowhere in the house. He was nowhere around the property. And he'd left his phone so there was no way of contacting him.

Thus began a wide search by not only the Uley pack, but all members of the Quileute tribe who had knowledge of the vampire-werewolf imprint bond.

With Marshall having wormed his way into so many people's lives, everyone was rightfully worried about him. 

He wasn't in the right state of mind to be wandering about without a means to get ahold of him.

They were all afraid of the possibility of his heart-shattering grief having reached its tipping point.

The ultimate pinnacle of no return.

In order to scope out a more expansive area, the wolves decided to split up. They chose to not phase for the sake of being able to message the entire group at a moment's notice. That made it difficult to cover ground at a faster rate, but it was more beneficial to contact everyone and not just those capable of shifting.

An unforeseen challenge made their search more difficult, however.

With rain and strong winds pelting the land alongside the occasional masses of hail, scents muddled together. The smell of dirt, pine trees, rain, wet grass, and nearby sea water blurred into a strong, singular fragrance that severely dampened Marshall's natural aroma. Since he'd been sleeping beside Paul beforehand, the signature musk he carried with himself also worked to shield the distinctive sweet copper vampires normally smelled of.

Their only method of finding Marshall was to either catch him from a distance or to pick up his voice.

Luckily, after a solid hour of combing through forests, clearings, and beaches, Sam spotted his lost pack mate on a high piece of land overlooking the sea.

He pulled out his phone while running at top speed.

Sam Uley:

Found him

Cliffside

Meetup at my house

Sam paid no mind to his skin being dirtied by streaks of mud. He didn't care when occasional twigs smacked into his face and left behind stray pine needles. There was no reaction when fierce thunder screeched above him. Terrifying lightning strikes were actually regarded as extra aid since they helped to light up the surrounding area.

They also illuminated Marshall's form as it was sitting, hunched over, at the cliff's edge.

Sam's wild sprint faded into a walk. His steps were careful—cautious. He made sure to keep his body relaxed in order to not be perceived as a threat.

"Marshall?"

There was no response.

"Marsh? Bud- can you hear me?"

Still nothing.

Marshall didn't move. The only changes in his form came from raging winds ruffling his hair and clothes. Jangling from the metal pendant hanging from his choker was heard too. His wire necklace somehow wasn't bothered by the air current.

The only logical reason Sam could formulate for such a thing happening pointed to the Barcelona pendant being held.

A gesture used to bring reprieve.

Just like...

Sam allowed his pace to pick up again. 

As soon as Marshall was within grabbing distance, his body was turned to face the alpha.

Black eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, and distant.

Relief upon seeing those details was instantaneous.

Marshall hadn't disappeared because he was trying to injure or fatally harm himself. He must've woken from his slumber in a dissociative state. His subconscious wanted to bring him to a safe space without burdening Paul while he rested. So the best option was to sit on the cliffside. Because offering the vampire a place to "come back" after floating was the best answer his body could come up with while on autopilot.

But now that help had arrived, Marshall would be able to confide in his family members instead of finding solace in watching the ocean.

Sam was careful in picking up his pack mate. The vampire was supported in a bridal carry, and his head lulled against the alpha's shoulder.

The shift in position caused tears to spill.

Sam offered kind, alleviative arm rubs. "Don't worry, you're okay now. Let's get you home, Marsh."

*

Seth

It wasn't often that Marshall polished his musical talent in front of people. While, yes, he had no qualms with singing and dancing in view of the pack, he normally kept to himself when composing new music or working with instruments. There were a few times when the wolves saw him messing around with a guitar, ukulele, or randomly plucking strings on his violin. They'd never truly caught him as he was dabbling with more extravagant instruments in a professional manner.

After he lost Brad, however, Marshall stopped entertaining his hobbies altogether.

That's why, when Seth walked through the front door, he was surprised to hear a fast, complicated tune being played on a cello upstairs.

"Is it really okay for me to be here? I don't want to disturb him if he's working."

Paul shook his head. "Don't worry about it. He knew we were having company today. Marsh just needed a bit of time to decompress. Said he wanted to try and get a bit of himself back. I'm sure he wouldn't mind you dropping in to say hi."

"I don't want to bother him."

"You won't be. Trust me."

Both men found themselves looking toward the ceiling as a string of quick notes were halted without warning. A frustrated grunt rang out. The tune started up again from a few measures back. Upon getting to the same section, an enthusiastic melody became jumbled in execution. A bout of silence was interrupted by a quiet swear.

"...That being said, he's been having a bit of a hard time finding his groove again."

Seth brought his hands together to fiddle with his thumbs. His expression turned sheepish at the prospect of his pack mate's anger at a hobby that normally brought him joy.

Nodding in understanding, Seth excused himself to walk up the stairs. His footsteps were muffled by soft carpeting. Passing glances were made at the framed pictures hanging on either side of him.

Seeing Marshall's face livened by a blinding grin made tense shoulders lower.

Seth followed the sound of music to a room at the end of the hallway. He leaned closer toward the door to get a read of the situation before entering.

Just like before, a fast melody was halted when certain notes weren't performed in a satisfactory way.

Dissonant noises of random piano keys getting hit made Seth jump.

He gave a quiet knock.

"Come in."

The door was opened in a sluggish manner.

Brown eyes took in the sight of Marshall sitting in front of a piano with his elbow leaning against a few keys, his head propped atop his hand. He was on the accompanying wooden black stool with a cello nestled between himself and the keyboard instrument. Sheet music was propped up on a connected stand.

An acoustic, electric, and bass guitar were hung up on the back wall. A standing shelf housed a large variety of metal and wooden flutes, an oboe, a clarinet, and a soprano saxophone. Stands kept on the floor were home to a violin and a larger empty one most likely for the cello. 

In another corner, instruments with intricate details carved into wooden bases were spotted. Seth could make out a guzheng, a pipa, and an erhu, along with a few others he himself wasn't familiar with. 

He was still amazed at the large collection standing before him.

"Hey, Seth."

"Hi. I'm...sorry if this is out of the blue, but I didn't realize you were so talented, Marsh."

The vampire let out a disapproving hum. "Usually, I am. But for some reason, I just can't grasp anything today. I've played this song hundreds of times and haven't had an issue with it since I initially got the sheet music. It's annoying."

"Well..." Seth leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. "Even the greatest of the great have off days. And you've been away from your craft for a little while- I wouldn't expect you to play at your very best right now. I think what would be better for you is to try and take a breather and come back to it with a clearer head. If that doesn't work, well, cut yourself some slack. I know you'll be able to fix things with a little extra practice."

For a moment, all Marshall did was stare.

Then, he chuckled.

Seth blushed in minor embarrassment. "Was that dumb advice? I'm not the musician here, so-"

"No. No, you're fine. It's just..." An amused expression morphed into a sad one. "You remind me a lot of him. He...used to say things like that too when I got frustrated with stuff like this."

Seth was taken aback as he didn't expect to be compared to Brad.

"...People like you are, like...he was, are one in a million. If you can, don't ever forget who you are. Don't ever lose yourself to please others. Because a person whose character is as kind and genuine as yours is...really tough to come by."

It was Seth's turn to chuckle. "I think that...if you're upset with practicing, you should do yourself a favor and stop. Don't rehearse now. It'd be more beneficial for you to just...play. From the heart. Maybe doing that can help to put you at ease."

Tapping the wooden frame, Seth waved and pulled the door shut.

His smile widened when hearing a slower, longer, more melancholic cry from the cello.

*

Jacob, Embry, and Quil

Marshall was constantly fighting an invisible war.

Not just because of his overwhelming grief at the loss of his best friend, but because he'd been forced to live a life where people constantly took advantage of him. 

Mentally, physically, emotionally—he'd been hurt in so many ways, it was sometimes impossible to feel safe even in his own skin.

Jacob and Embry realized that when they first witnessed the vampire go through a horrifying panic attack.

Then, Quil realized it when seeing Marshall deal with Edward's unapologetic cruelty when they first found out about Victoria's newborn army.

After seeing their pack mate struggle so heavily, they all made a unanimous decision to silently watch over him. To be on the lookout for possible instances where he needed assistance. To act as grounding points when necessary if he ever went through another frightening panic attack, flashback, or any other ordeal brought on by his PTSD.

The trio of shifters had always been protective of those they cared about—both before phasing and after. Because it was uncommon for them to ever be separated, they often found themselves dealing with issues as a collective unit.

So, when Marshall's bloodcurdling screams echoed from down the hall, all three people rose to their feet to assist.

By the time they were all occupying the Uley guest bedroom, Marshall was awake. He was panting, gasping for air he couldn't quite grasp. His hands were cupped over his ears. His tear-filled eyes were wide. His entire body shook like a fragile leaf threatening to be swept away from its branch.

A rampant string of apologies toward Brad—about how Marshall failed him—pointed to what their pack mate had dreamt.

Jacob sat behind him to keep his steady hands on quaking shoulders.

Embry did the same on forearms covered in bulging veins.

Quil did so as well when giving gentle rubs to a hunched back and bent knee.

Marshall continued to wheeze and cough and sob.

But the people surrounding him never made a move to leave. They never did anything to make him feel like he wasn't safe. They didn't give any implication that helping their vampire was something seen as a waste of time.

Because it wasn't.

Marshall deserved to have people who were there for him.

He deserved to be able to fall apart in the presence of people who would hold his broken pieces together.

Jacob, Embry, and Quil were well aware that it was going to take a long time for Marshall to truly get past the current obstacle in his path.

But, one thing they knew for certain, was that he was going to always have them around—even when he could walk without their aid.

That was in the future, though.

For now, they had one job to take care of.

"...You know he wouldn't want it," Embry said once fierce wails quieted down into occasional sniffles. "He wouldn't want you to apologize for something you couldn't control."

Quil nodded in agreement. "He wouldn't blame you for what happened to him either."

Jacob offered a few shoulder rubs. "And he would never hate you. For the things you could or couldn't do- he wouldn't hate you for anything. Because, in the end, even when he knew the truth, he still loved you all the same."

Marshall whimpered, curling into himself.

He accepted a warm group hug without saying a thing.