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1:56 AM.
Marzipan is wide awake.
This is unusual for a woman like her. She is always asleep by 9:30 at the very latest, and waking up the next morning at 6:00. The old saying always proclaimed that the early bird gets the worm, but Marzipan would much rather get a nice bowl of granola. Just think of the poor worms.
And yet, even with that in mind, Marzipan cannot get a peep of shut-eye. She’s trying her best, she really is, but something is nagging at her mind. Something that keeps coming back every time she glances at her bedside table. There gently sits a red and blue cap, with an adorable white buzzer.
Sigh.
It’s the third time this month the two of them have broken up. To most regular people, that sounds like a lot, but to them it is admittedly a rather low number. It feels like every single day when they’re in a relationship, one of them messes up. Homestar decides out of curiosity to pour Mountain Dew in the houseplants, Marzipan keeps rambling on about some activism thing despite her less eco-conscious boyfriend’s boredom, so on and so forth.
So why is it that every single time, one of them comes crawling back to the other? That’s what Marzipan’s been trying to figure out for hours. When did this all start? She thinks back to that fateful day… the day they first met.
A young Marzipan, around late high school age, sat by the park’s pond. She tossed peas to the ducks, watching with a smile as they gobbled them up. It was the most peaceful day, and little did she know, things were about to get interesting.
“Hey.”
Marzipan jumped out of her skin, whipping her head to her left. There stood a curious young fellow, with pure white skin and a rectangular body. Almost like a living marshmallow. Pretending she hadn’t almost screamed, she cleared her throat. “Um, hello.”
“What are you doing?” the unfamiliar lad inquired, tilting his head in a way that made the propeller on his hat gently spin.
Marzipan blinked at the ducks, then back at him. “I’m feeding the ducks.”
“Oh. I thought those things only ate bread.”
Scoffing, Marzipan shook her head. “No, no, no! That’s a very common misconception. Bread’s actually bad for ducks, it can lead to obesity, among other things.”
The marshmallow man looked at her with a clueless expression, as if he had somehow managed to miss everything she just said. But despite that, he nodded and let out an “Ohhh. I totally knew that.”
“...Right.” Marzipan said with a suspicious smirk.
“Y’know, I’m something of a duck expert myself,” he puffed out his chest, “I’ve even got one on my shirt!”
Marzipan glanced down at his bright yellow shirt. Sure enough, there was a white silhouette of a duck plastered on it. “That’s a lovely shirt, but I don’t think that means you’re an expert.”
Duck-shirt gasped, “Yeah it does! Why, I could tell you a cool duck fact right now.”
Marzipan leaned back. “Go ahead.”
“Um, uh… They’re sometimes yellow… and they go like this. Quack, quack, quack!” he began marching his legs up and down, opening his mouth real wide to quack as efficiently as possible.
This was almost too much to handle. Marzipan leaned back her head and let out a big laugh. The certified duck expert looked at her in puzzlement, before chuckling as well.
“I know, I know,” he said with a boastful expression, “I’m so good at ducks, you laugh in amazement!”
“You’re hilarious,” Marzipan giggled.
“Me? Hilarious?” the no-armed whitie blushed, chuckling, “Um, yeah! Of course I am. Whatever you say.”
“What’s your name, anyways?”
“My name? Lemme think… oh yeah. I’m The Homestar Runner.”
“I’m Marzipan. It’s nice to meet you, Homestar Runner.”
“The Homestar Runner,” The Homestar Runner piped up, “It makes me sound professional.”
“Right, The Homestar Runner,” Marzipan exhaled with a smile, “What a name.”
What a name… A name that wouldn’t ever leave her head for the next several years, try as she might.
From then on, they began seeing each other more often. Marzipan distinctly remembers that when she gave Homestar her number, after he walked far enough away he began jumping and spinning around, like an excited puppy in the body of some dude. Then, when he turned around and saw Marzipan staring at him, he got this wide-eyed look before grinning and running away. It was the cutest thing Marzipan had ever seen.
She hates to get sentimental, but now that she’s thinking of the past, it’s hard to stop. Things were so different then. For one thing, she fed ducks back then. Marzipan never feeds the ducks anymore. You can’t let them become too comfortable around humans, they may become overdependent. Marzipan also was a lot more patient with Homestar then. These days, the whole “duck expert” thing would make her lower her eyelids at him, but back then it seemed like he was just joking around. She knows better now. Whenever Homestar’s actually joking around, it comes out in the form of things like terrible knock-knock jokes.
Damn. Now Marzipan misses when she found Homestar funny. Within mere minutes of their first conversation, he made her all giggly. But nowadays… When was the last time she even chuckled around him? With how much time they’ve spent together, you’d expect more examples to be brought up, but Marzipan’s drawing a blank. But she certainly can remember another time in the past when she laughed around him, a long time ago. Their first kiss.
The two young lovebirds had been seeing each other for about a month at this point. That’s how long things lasted back then, wow. Crazy. They were slowly edging out of that cutesy early dating stage: the compliments got less shy and stumbly, they were sitting closer to each other, they started picking up on each other’s habits, so on and so forth.
Homestar had invited Marzipan over to his house. His parents were hardly home anyways, so it wasn’t like they’d be there to get in the way or anything. Marzipan still remembers the day she met Homestar’s stepmom, and how embarrassed he seemed at how overly excited she was about her stepson’s new girlfriend. Marzipan tried to make it clear that she didn’t mind, but Homestar rarely invited her over when his folks were home since then anyways. But the point is, they were all alone, sitting on the couch.
“So…” Homestar mumbled, tapping his feet, “You want anything to eat or something? Like, um,” He paused, never remembering what vegetarians eat. “A bag of croutons?”
Marzipan shook her head. “No, I ate before I got here. Thanks, though.”
“Cool, cool.”
Silence. Marzipan was starting to get a little concerned, as Homestar wasn’t usually this awkward. Maybe something was on his mind. As his blossoming girlfriend, she felt like it was her duty to get to the bottom of this.
“Homestar?” Marzipan piped up.
“Yeah?” Homestar responded, glancing up from his feet sheepishly.
“Is something wrong?”
Homestar seemed defensive all of a sudden, “What? No, no! Haha, nope.”
Marzipan raised an eyebrow. Homestar’s legs shook more as he darted his eyes left and right. He probably thought he was being real slick. Marzipan hoped that her skeptical look would give it away, but Homestar still evaded her, so she had to get direct.
“I can tell you’re lying to me.”
Now the runner was sweating bullets. “Lying? Me? No Siree.”
“Homestar.”
“Oh, I can’t hold it back anymore.”
“Hold what ba-”
Marzipan was unable to finish her thought before Homestar suddenly leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was brief, only about 3 seconds long, but it left Marzipan with wide eyes and a slack jaw. She sat there, completely stunned.
Homestar, after not receiving a response, clearly began to panic, “Oh, I’m sorry, Marzipan! I just… you’re such a pretty and cool person! That’s also a girl! I’ve had a few flings before, but this one feels… different! I’ve never wanted to kiss anybody more in my whole freaking life! I’m sorry, I should’ve asked!”
Marzipan stared at him, before her mouth curled into a smile, and a laugh escaped from within. Homestar had his legs clenched together nervously, unsure how to take this reaction.
“The Homestar Runner,” Marzipan declared with a giggle, “You are the most adorable thing on this planet.” To seal this sentence, she leaned in, and kissed him once more. Homestar was clearly surprised, but settled into the kiss, making sure it was much less pathetic this time. His lips were soft and pillowy. Pretty squishy, actually. Which sounds a little unpleasant in theory, but Homestar was and is a very squishy guy. He also had a distinct sugary taste, which Marzipan assumed was his usual marshmallows. It felt like heaven.
When they pulled away, they smiled at each other. Homestar’s dopey grin was not helping Marzipan’s already exploding heart.
“Wow,” Homestar said with glee, “Wow, wow, wowie, wowzers. Wow.”
Marzipan nodded. “I agree.”
“That felt fantastic!”
“It sure did. Sorry if I was a little awkward.” Marzipan remembers that she said this because towards the end of the kiss, she had started to suck on Homestar’s mouth a little. It felt a little strange and made a kinda gross sound.
“What?” Homestar tilted his head, “No, you were great.”
“Really? I’ve never even kissed anyone before.”
“I couldn’t tell. I was thinking, ‘wow, this Marzipan’s some sort of kissing expert.’”
Marzipan chuckled in disbelief, “Well… I guess you’ve done this a lot more than me, so you’re the proper one to tell me if I’m good or not.”
“Probably. Y’know, the last girl I kissed was pretty crappy. Her breath smelled and tasted like buhlogna.” Homestar stuck out his tongue and made a retching sound.
“...Buhlogna?”
“Uh, yeah. Buh-log-na.”
…
Oh.
“Bologna?” Marzipan hesitantly corrected.
Homestar blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds more right.” He chuckled, “Man, Marzipan. You’re smart. I like that about you.”
Marzipan giggled, blushing, “Oh, I’m not that smart. I’m a little average, if you ask me.” She was being incredibly modest. She hadn’t gotten anything lower than an A- at school in years. By potentially corrupt school system standards, she was Albert Einstein.
“Ah, c’mon,” Homestar nudged her with his invisible arm. “How do you get so smart, huh? Can’t you see you are a smart?”
Marzipan laughed nervously. She wished she could properly hide how red her face was getting. The best she could do was brush some of her hair in front of it.
Homestar smiled at her, before it faded a little. “N-no, seriously. Could you teach me some study tips or something? I’m failing every class except for PE.”
Marzipan’s smile dropped. “Homestar! Why didn’t you tell me sooner???”
“I dunno. I just kinda didn’t.”
“Well, now I really have to help you. Quick, name one subject you’re doing terribly at.”
“Physics.”
“Then grab your physics textbook and let’s do some equations!”
“Roger that, ma’am!” Homestar nodded, before running off to go grab his textbook.
Even if that day ended up with a more… academic twist than expected, Marzipan still remembers it fondly. She most often uses it as a reminder as to why she fell for Homestar in the first place, especially on days where she finds herself wanting to wring his white boy neck. Homestar never really got any worse at kissing, but after a while they began to feel less meaningful. Nowadays, Marzipan mostly makes out with him because it feels good, not necessarily out of loving passion. The first few times were the indisputable best.
In fact, even with the studying afterwards, it felt incredibly wholesome and domestic. They genuinely got a lot done, and Homestar still widely credits Marzipan for letting him narrowly graduate. She recalls that when she taught him Coulomb's Law, Homestar told her after passing a test regarding it that he remembered everything solely because Coulomb sounds like “cool um”, and he thought it was “kind of sort of awesome that an um can be cool”.
God, he was silly back then, and only became even more of a complete goof as he got older. So when did Marzipan stop finding it endearing? What happened? She tries to think, before deciding on something the best that her sleepy brain could.
They just kind of grew sick of each other.
It’s something reported of married couples across the globe. Love can turn into resentment the longer things go on, because as you spend more time together, you learn more and more annoying things about your partner. In the beginning, everything is fresh and interesting, but things can sour. Sure, Homestar and Marzipan aren’t married, but at this rate they might as well be. They’ve been together for years, technically, if you don’t count all the downtimes.
But despite this sickness, it’s hard to imagine life without each other. They don’t necessarily “complete” one another, you can absolutely have Marzipan without Homestar and vice versa, but when you see somebody basically every day, it’s hard not to get attached. Marzipan’s tried to see other people, those times have been great, and then a week later she finds herself sitting on the couch next to the usual guy again. She isn’t even sure if Homestar has any other people to go after.
…Except, maybe…
No, that’s ridiculous. Not him.
He does seem pretty attached to him, though. What, with all the house break-ins and whatnot. And the way he seems to want to spend more time with him than her most days. Yeah, it’s actually kind of…
Well, that’s something for Marzipan to ponder about another sleepless night. No need to add extra stress with he-who-must-not-be-named.
Marzipan slowly inhales, then exhales. She has to make a decision. Does she really need Homestar, or is it time to move on? The problem is, every time she’s absolutely positive she’s ready to move on, it turns out that she’s bullcrapping herself. So what makes this any different? Maybe she really does need Homestar, and maybe he needs her too. And yet, also maybe not.
It’s too late for this sort of thing. Marzipan glances at her bedside clock and her heart skips a beat when she sees it showing 2:54 at her. Jeez louise, she really spent nearly an hour thinking about this??? She has to sleep now.
She nestles under her blankets, before her eyes land on the familiar cap again. On top of the other things she has to settle on tomorrow, she should probably be returning that. But in the meantime… Gently, she scoops up the hat, and turns to the pillow beside her, one that she keeps out for Homestar on nights the two of them are together. After smoothing it out, she plops the hat on the top-most end of the pillow.
“Well, Homestar,” Marzipan says to the pillow, “If this is the last night I sleep by your side, I thank you for the company,” She rolls her eyes, “Even if this time you called me a less foxy version of my mom.”
Hesitating for a moment, she begins moving the pillow and doing a voice she usually does for a certain cardboard replica, “No pwoblem, Mawzipan! You wewe a gweat gohlfwiend who was mostly in the wight all those times, because you so smawt.”
She smiles. A part of her knows that this fake Homestar thing has always been less than mature, but it’s always so oddly reassuring.
Hm. But he’s always so out of character. Maybe, for once, she was going to try something a bit more… proper.
“Mawzipan, I’ve got something weally cool to show off befowe we go to sleep,” Pillow Homestar chirps.
“What is it now?” Marzipan replies, trying her typical apathy, but struggling to hide the fondness.
“Haven’t you always wanted to…” Pause for effect. “Spin my buzzew?”
Marzipan almost didn’t consciously say that. But man, now that she had that hat all to herself, how could she resist?
She nods. “Of course, Homestar. Of course.”
With a flick, she gives the iconic “buzzer” a twirl. It keeps going and going, but the mere buzz feels a little empty. That’s not how Homestar really wants that thing to sound. Spinning it again, Marzipan begins to hum a familiar tune. From a certain television series about a court, at night.
Once she finishes, she can’t help but let out a giggle, settling down into the blankets once more.
Even if it will never happen again, Homestar sticking around for one more night really wasn’t that bad, in both her mind and her pillow.
Maybe she will miss it. Just a little.