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Marco had always listened to his gut; it was just an integral part of his life. He'd told Star this on one of their many adventures, as an argument for why they should most definitely not follow the weird-looking two-headed demon into that scary-looking cave. She had just rolled her eyes at him and insisted he take risks more often instead of being a chicken. She then walked into the cave after lighting up her wand for illumination, leaving Marco to splutter indignantly and run to catch up.
It was a trap, of course, and although they managed to escape with all their limbs intact, they also left with more than a few bruises, annoying Marco to no end and leaving him feeling vindicated in his earlier statement.
He later wrote it down on a star shaped Post-it note which Star had given him, snickering, as a present:
ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR GUT!!!
And stuck it on the ceiling above his bed as a reminder every morning. If it 'ain't broke, don't fix it, after all.
***
Yes, Marco always listened to his gut, which is why when he saw Star talking to a handsome purple demon with three eyes in a rather snappy suit and his gut screamed DANGER!! he didn't hesitate to go and karate chop the guy's hand. He was a little morbidly fascinated at how it just fell off and instead of blood there were ghostly crossbones, but he was a demon. Marco almost regretted it, when he saw the demon's entire body tense with rage, but, to his relief, the demon calmed down quickly after petting the small bunny in his arms (to the point where it fur puffed out, and Marco couldn't help but feel a little bad for it). Then Star had explained that he was her ex-boyfriend and, alright, Marco could freely admit to himself her ex wasn't half-bad looking, but he wasn't about to let the guy sweep her off her feet and take her to the underworld; his gut was telling him this guy was bad news and he'd be damned if he stopped listening now. Marco had said as much but had gone practically ignored as Star rushed headfirst into what he just knew would be another disaster, and eventually gave into his gut feeling and went to save her.
He'd probably have regretted it immediately if he wasn't so shaken and pumped on adrenaline from the near-death experience of almost being turned to ash by an enraged and attractive jealous demon. He did regret it later on, though, when Star had told him she didn't need a hero, and he realized it was technically his fault that the situation got so out of control.
He'd stayed up in bed the rest of that night, chewing on his pen and trying to read the book he'd purchased on various demons and monsters, and how to defeat them without getting close enough to risk imminent death by fire or claws. His eyes kept straying to the note above his bed, however, and more than once he'd started to reach up to take it down, but thought better of it in the end. His gut had been wrong once, there was no call for alarm; besides, he'd had a good time, and Star seemed to have as well, so no harm done. Right?
***
Tom turned up a few days later at school again, this time wearing a more casual outfit, a red shirt torn at the edges with a star in the middle and some jeans. He'd already been talking to Star for a while, Marco realized, and his gut was yelling again. He advanced on the demon but was beaten to the (literal) punch by Star, who bopped him over the head with her wand.
"I'm not going anywhere with you until you apologize to Marco for nearly killing him!" She snapped, turning her back and crossing her arms. Marco winced, and froze, not entirely sure he wanted to be there for Tom's reply, then began to back away, but Star had already spotted him. Her face lit up before she rushed to drag him over, and Marco's eyes met Tom's just long enough to realize they'd both rather be anywhere but here. He felt strangely indignant, forgetting his earlier discomfort, he did deserve that apology, and the fact Tom hadn't come for the sole purpose of giving it to him made him feel irrationally cheated. He smirked and stood up straighter, making an I'm waiting motion with his hands; it might've been petty, but if he couldn't get back at Tom through fighting (he was man enough to admit Tom would probably win, as amazing as Marco was), he could at least piss Tom off. Tom scowled at him and seemed to be waging an internal war over his pride or Star's affection, but pride seemed to win eventually, and he sneered.
"Whatever." He muttered and left, walking off the campus and out of sight. Star just sighed and slumped, then glanced up at Marco.
"Sorry, Marco, he's always been like this. I had hoped he'd changed, but..." she trailed off, then shook her head, giving him an apologetic look.
"Nah, it's fine." He said, making her smile again. It wasn't quite fine, he still felt more than a little annoyed that the guy trying to win over Marco's best friend had already tried to kill him, then had decided his pride was more important than apologizing, but he'd never tell Star that. "And hey," he said with a grin, "Guess this means my gut was right. Again." He laughed as Star hit him, both of them in a better mood, and went to go get nachos, Tom all but forgotten.
***
The next day Marco awoke to something burning on his desk and yelped in panic, quickly grabbing the water bottle from his nightstand and dousing it. The fire didn't stop, however, and Marco's panic only increased, running into the kitchen for Star who, ever the early riser, would no doubt be there making breakfast. She just stared at him in confusion and opened her mouth to say something, but Marco was already yelling.
"STAR! FIRE AND-BURNING AND-WATER-STARRRR!!" And with that (very coherent sentence) he grabbed her arm, pulling her up and to his room. "FIRE AND-SEE??" He said frantically, pointing in the general direction of his desk, continuing to look at her, then very pointedly at her wand, then back again. She just looked around and then turned to him, giving him a flat look.
"Marco, were you eating nachos before bed again?" She accused with a raised eyebrow, and Marco just blinked before finally looking up, staring in shock at the very much not on fire desk.
"But-but! Fire!" He insisted weakly; Star just rolled her eyes and started to walk off. "There really was a fire I swear! I'm not crazy!" He said quickly, grabbing her arm. Star gave him a dubious look but eventually nodded.
"Alright Marco, you're not crazy." She agreed placatingly, patting his arm as one would a skittish animal and disentangled from his grip, walking back to the kitchen.
Marco just stood there for a while, confusion evident on his face, before walking slowly up to the desk, as if it could explode at any moment (and for all he knew, it would). There weren't even scorch marks, and he realized that where the fire had been there was now a small black box. It's definitely a trap, something's going to jump out of it and eat you, DON'T OPEN IT! His gut cried, and he bit his lip, unsure whether he wanted to peek inside or throw it out the window. Curiosity won out in the end, though, and he slowly opened it, while simultaneously holding it as far away from his body as possible. He peeked inside and froze in shock at the contents: a small skull identical to the mask he had worn to the ball sat inside, connected to a thin silver chain, made of some kind of rock he was unable to identify, and inserted into the two eyes sockets were definitely small rubies. How much did this cost? Was his first thought, followed by who the heck sent it? And is this even for me?? He'd probably never find the answer to the first question, but the second two were answered with a small note hidden underneath the skull, and his face softened into a small smile when he read the one word written in more elegant handwriting than he would probably ever accomplish in his life:
Sorry
Later that day Marco put on the necklace and grinned, admiring himself in the mirror. His gut still murmured in the background that it might be a trap, that it was going to strangle him in his sleep or something, but he just flopped onto his bed, still smiling like an idiot. He looked up and saw the sticky note, then bit his lip as his hands twitched. Eventually, he got up and grabbed a pen, standing on his bed and modifying the words slightly. It now read:
Almost ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR GUT!!!
The 'almost' wasn't all capitalized and was squished between the edge of the paper and the 'always', but it was there, and Marco figured that was all that was important.
***
A few months went by before they heard from Tom again, and Marco hadn't taken the necklace off once. Star had questioned where he'd gotten it from, after complimenting him on it profusely, and the words had gotten stuck in his throat; your ex-boyfriend sent me a necklace with rubies on it to apologize didn't sound like the right thing to say, so he just mumbled out
"I found it." and refused to say more on the matter. Star was suspicious, but she let it slide eventually.
When Tom rang the doorbell at Marco's house on a hot Saturday he was wearing a suit once again and had a bouquet of flaming roses, which Marco promptly told him were not coming inside, because he had promised his mom he wouldn't burn the house down while she was out shopping. Tom frowned, but begrudgingly agreed, and they stood there in silence for a good thirty seconds.
"So, Star..?" Tom prompted eventually when Marco made no move to ask his motives, and he shook himself out of whatever spell he'd been under, nodding and babbling for a few moments before shouting into the house.
"Star! It's Tom! And he's, uh, got roses? And they're on fire?" It came out hesitantly, like he wasn't sure Star would entirely believe him if he said it. There was a crash from upstairs and a 'HOLD ON KEEP HIM BUSY I'M NOT DECENT!' and Marco didn't have the heart to tell her Tom could hear everything she was saying too. He turned back around and cleared his throat, but froze when he noticed Tom staring at his neck. Tom began to open his mouth as if he was about to say something, and Marco had a feeling that whatever it was he wasn't going to like it, but he was saved by Star running to the door and glaring at Tom.
"Why are you here?" She snapped, crossing her arms, looking for all the world like she hadn't been in her PJs singing pop songs into her wand one minute ago (Marco knew better-Tom probably didn't). Tom didn't waste a second, grinning and turning the charm on. He began to float as fire shot out of his shoes and spun around her in lazy circles.
"Well, I figured since I'd apologized so nicely, and Marco seems to have accepted it, you'd go on a date with me." And of course, Marco thought in anger and in -hurt? -, of course Tom wouldn't just send him a necklace embedded with rubies. Of course it would be to impress Star and win her back because he was a fucking demon and demons don't just say they're sorry. He stood there fuming in silence for a few minutes before he realized Star and Tom were both looking at him expectantly.
"Uh, what?" He asked, coughing nervously, attempting to play it cool and missing by a mile.
"Did Tom give you the necklace?" Star repeated, and Marco realized she was genuinely asking, that he could lie and say no and she'd believe him, not Tom. It seemed to have occurred to Tom too because the look he was giving Marco morphed from smug to concerned to something along the lines of if you so much as think about it I will kill you. Marco chewed his lip and glanced from Star's impatient look to Tom's threatening one; lie his gut said, get this bastard off your porch and have him take his goddamn flaming roses with him. Marco opened his mouth to say just that, but then he thought of the sticky note above his bed and remembered the 'almost' and a mumbled "Yeah..." came out instead. Tom looked almost sick with relief and Marco realized he probably would have been too if he'd been in Tom's position, but Star just looked surprised.
"You told me you found it!" She said, eyes wide, and something in her expression came off a little hurt, causing Marco to visibly flinch.
"I found it on my desk with a note?" He tried weakly, and Tom snorted but said nothing. Star frowned, but she seemed unable to be mad at two people at once so she just laughed as though he'd said something funny then turned to Tom, serious again.
"Alright, fine, we can go, BUT!" She started, forging on before Tom's face could light up in delight, "we go where I want for as long as I say, not a second longer!" Tom was eagerly nodding, shoving the bouquet in her face and beginning to drag her along. Star glanced at Marco desperately, as if willing him to understand something, and he opened his mouth to insist he come too, to chaperone and make sure they stayed out of trouble. He froze, however, when he remembered her words from the end of the ball. I don't need a hero, I need a friend. His hands clenched into fists at his side, but he remained silent, ignoring Star's increasingly desperate looks, and only went back inside when both she and Tom were out of sight.
He went up to his room and sat on the side of his bed, leaning over his knees to stare at the scruff marks on the floor. His necklace dangled in front of him as he did so, and in a sudden rage he snapped it off and threw it across the room with all the force he could muster. It hit the far wall, where it smashed into little pieces that made tinkling sounds as they fell to the floor. He looked back down at the ground and sighed, then watched as a single ruby eye rolled to a stop at his feet. He picked it up and stared at it, then fell onto his bed and curled up on himself, clutching it to his chest as he fell asleep.
The sticky note remained above his bed, a silent protector from the outside world and the hurt of feeling used; he didn't dream.
***
The months came and went, and Marco found himself to be 15 before he knew it. His party was small, but he enjoyed it nonetheless and the gifts people gave him were amazing and thoughtful. Among the things he ended up walking away with were a couple more books on demons and monsters, a new red hoodie, and a gift card to his favorite restaurant (courtesy of Star, who insisted they go use it immediately, and who probably ended up spending more of it than he did). When they got home, he found another black box on his desk with the note beside it, which read:
Happy Birthday
there was a small p.s. saying try not to break it this time, and Marco didn't know how Tom had found out he'd broken the last gift, but in the end, he didn't really care; he threw the box out the window without opening it.
(And if he kept the note in the drawer he had placed the previous note and the ruby eyes in, well, that was no one's business but his own.)
***
When Tom came next, Star's birthday had already passed (she had told him he wasn't allowed to come to the party under ANY circumstances because of what had happened the LAST time, and Marco was frankly too afraid to ask for the details), and was in his signature suit and tie. He held a single blue rose, which Marco noted wasn't on fire this time, much to his relief, and a box wrapped in, surprise surprise, black wrapping paper; Marco was starting to see a trend. He smirked when Marco opened the door, but it fell slightly when he looked to Marco's bare neck. Marco just gave a sly grin, the what you are going to do about it? unspoken. It felt like some form of revenge, along with another feeling Marco couldn't identify but gave him a bittersweet sense of satisfaction anyway.
"Yes?" Marco asked, the grin widening at Tom's frown.
"You're not wearing it," Tom said with a childish petulance to his voice, and Marco couldn't help but laugh.
"Now how are you going to convince Star to go out with you?" Marco responded, more cruel than necessary; but he was angry, and had been since the first time Tom had shown up at his doorstep. Whether he was angry at himself, at Tom, or the situation, he couldn't tell, but he wanted to twist any knives he could get hold of; make Tom hurt too. The oncoming disaster conversation was halted, however, by Star running over and excitedly asking who was at the door, stopping and looking from Tom to Marco with an unreadable expression, and Marco felt like he'd accidentally done something he shouldn't have. The anger faded mostly, but the other feeling still remained, intensified by the anger's absence, and he suddenly felt a bit sheepish.
"Only if Marco gets to come." Was all she said eventually, then waited for Tom's response. Tom and Marco both started spluttering at that, Tom obviously wanted privacy and Marco definitely not wanting to spend more time with Tom than necessary, protect Star or no (he'd learned, over the past year or so, she was more than capable of protecting herself, and he frankly wasn't about to start second-guessing that conclusion if it meant he'd have to follow on whatever their 'date' entailed). She stood her ground, however, and Marco fully expected Tom to get up and leave again, but he just hovered there (when had he gotten off the ground?), looking from Star to the presents in his hands to Marco, the finally gave a grunt of reluctant agreement, shoving the gifts at her with noticeably less enthusiasm. She grinned down at them anyway and tore at the wrapping paper, gasping in delight at the beautiful bracelet, and while Marco recoiled slightly at the skulls carved into the metal he had to admit the glowing runes were a nice touch. She slipped it on and rushed to hug Tom, who went stiff with shock but eventually wrapped his arms around her too, smiling in a way Marco had never seen him before. He felt a bit like he was intruding, that he wasn't meant to see that smile, and the feeling in his chest only worsened. Finally, Star let go and grabbed both their hands, still grinning, and tugged them along.
"Alright, guys! Let's go have fun!" She said laughing, and Marco couldn't help but laugh too, her joy contagious. His gut seemed unsure of what to say.
It was awkward at first, Marco torn between the desire to protect Star from a big bad wolf and the desire to get the fuck out of there because, goddamn, was the awkward atmosphere crushing everyone or was it just him? Tom clearly didn't want him there either, continuing to make rather rude jokes at his expense, usually about the idiocy of humans, and looked like he was about a hair's breath away from setting Marco on fire. Marco took it and didn't say anything, for Star's sake, remaining silent despite wanting to punch Tom in all three of his too-pretty-for-his-own-good eyes. Eventually, they decided (Star decided) to go to her favorite Chinese restaurant, the one that still gave her the stale fortune cookies, which she still ate with gusto.
It would have been a much more awkward meal if Star hadn't talked nearly the entirety of it, and squealed in delight when she was presented with the stale cookies, as usual. Marco couldn't help but snort and, against all his better judgment, leaned over to Tom to whisper:
"The first time we got fortune cookies I convinced her that they really could tell the future, and she actually believed me for the rest of the day. Now we're just known as the crazy girl who likes stale cookies and her friend." Tom stared at him for a second, as if taking a while to process both what Marco had said and the fact he'd actually talked to him, but when it all finally connected in his brain he let out a laugh. Marco was surprised at how sweet it sounded, then blushed at his own traitorous thoughts. He found himself irrationally hoping Tom's third eye didn't have some sort of mind-reading powers, then admitted defeat because, with his luck, it probably did. If it did Tom didn't say anything, though, too busy being just as shocked at his own laugh as Marco was, if not more. Marco began laughing at the look on Tom's face, and his laughter must have triggered Tom's own because soon they were both giggling like idiots.
Star stared at them both, a handful of half-cookies poised to enter her mouth, then gave a wicked smirk and, stuffing them in and chewing ferociously, picked up one of the fortunes she had already opened, giving it to Marco. It took Marco a while to cool down enough to actually read it, but when he did he just blinked. He looked back up at her in absolute confusion, unsure what she was referring to. Tom was looking down at his plate and seemed more purple in the cheeks than usual, be it because of how hard he had been laughing or for another reason Marco couldn't tell; Star just patted Tom's arm in what seemed to be a comforting manner (Marco wasn't sure, he'd never been good at the whole 'guessing other people's emotions' thing- or even guessing his own, really). He gave up after a while, figuring Star just had a piece of this utterly complex and frustrating puzzle that he didn't and would share it eventually. She began to talk again, but the tension in the room had lessened significantly, and a small voice in the back of his head whispered happy. This appeared to be good enough for Marco's gut, which had been undecided on the matter since the date began, as it finally settled on safe.
When he got home, he stuffed the fortune into the drawer with the two notes and the ruby eyes, his gut telling him it would be important later.
(The fortune said Love is coming your way! And Marco should probably have taken it for the hint it was, but he was young and stupid so he had an excuse.)
***
It continued this way for some time, Marco accompanying them on their 'dates', and soon found Tom wasn't half bad. Sure, he was either too sarcastic or too serious 90% of the time, and he had one hell of a temper which, when out of control, could set everything within the near vicinity ablaze, but he was also funny and charming, in his own way, and seemed to genuinely care for Star. As the outings continued Tom appeared to take more interest in Marco too, he stopped looking at him like an annoying third wheel and more like an actual person; he'd also seemed to make it his personal goal to make Marco laugh as much as possible, until he was nearly crying. Marco had endless questions about demons and eventually would just get into discussions with Tom about the underworld that would go on forever, both laughing as the world narrowed down to just the two of them. After a while, Star would clear her throat as loudly as possible and Marco, ever the mother hen, would immediately turn and ask if she was okay. She would say she was fine and would start on another topic, one she was actually interested in, but Marco inevitably would find another question and bite his tongue until he found an opening to ask it, then the cycle would repeat. His gut remained quiet throughout those evenings, but the first time Tom came without a rose or gift and in a casual black t-shirt and jeans rather than his suit Marco's gut flared once again. Different, it said something's different; he'd taken it to mean bad different since better safe than sorry was the second motto he lived by.
"You're not wearing a suit." He said, and Tom just grinned, cocking his head in the way Marco had come to learn meant he wasn't saying something, something that was probably vital information. "And you don't have a rose." He continued, and Tom just stood there patiently. That alone would have set off warning bells in Marco's mind because Tom was never patient; ever.
He opened his mouth to say as much, and possibly call out to Star about some insane attack Tom had elaborately set up, before remembering she'd gone to the mall and left him alone because his fashion sense 'consisted of a red hoodie and jeans, or a brown cardigan if he was feeling classy, and leeched her of her own fashion sense just by being in the vicinity'. So instead he blurted "She's not here!" and prayed to whatever deities were out there that it was enough of a reason for Tom to hold off whatever he was planning for another day. Tom actually looked confused for a second, as if he was unsure who Marco was referring to, then laughed and shook his head. God, that laugh. Marco let himself think because he didn't have enough self-control not to.
"I thought maybe we could hang out today, just the two of us," Tom said and Marco froze because this was it, Tom had finally gotten sick of a third wheel and was going to feed him to some insane demons then eat his soul. Tom must've seen him tense, though, because he suddenly looked more nervous and slightly less sure of himself. "I mean, only if you want to!" He amended quickly, his bottom two eyes looking down at his shoes as he scuffed them on the concrete, but his third eye remained fixed on Marco hopefully, and Marco found himself reassuring Tom without thinking.
"No, no, I totally want to go! It's just that-" he trailed off, searching for an excuse, but saw the way Tom's shoulders slumped in defeat and the protest died on his lips. "It's just that I have to be home early to do homework, so we won't be able to stay out long." He finished, giving his best hundred-watt smile. Tom's face lit up and he grabbed Marco's arm.
"Awesome!" He said, dragging him off on whatever insane adventure he had planned, and Marco's head screamed at him to karate Tom's arm again and take off running (he didn't).
They'd ended up going to an old movie theater, which played both new movies and old classics. Tom had chosen Alien, much to Marco's distress, and he found himself clinging to Tom and screeching in a rather unmanly fashion on more than a few occasions (his saving grace was that they were the only two in the theater at the time). Tom hadn't seemed too impressed with the movie but had grinned every time Marco clung to him, patting his hand in a mock-comforting way then laughing when Marco swatted at him in embarrassment. By the time the movie ended Marco had successfully managed to lose any shreds of dignity he'd maintained in his time 'chaperoning' their dates (which wasn't a lot, but it was the principle of the thing, really). He'd come out of the theater laughing along with Tom anyway, and realized he hadn't felt this light-hearted in a while, enough so that he felt a little sad when his house came into view, upset their time was over, and stood on the front porch looking down at his shoes, up at Tom, then down again.
"Listen, I wanted to-"
"I just wanted to say-"
They both said at the same time, then stared at each other in surprise, and promptly burst out laughing.
"You first," Marco said, still giggling, and he saw Tom glance down at his feet nervously, before holding out his hand, and in his palm a fire started to burn, identical to the one that he'd woken up to in what seemed like forever ago. Marco stared in awe as a form began to appear in the flames and eventually they extinguished, leaving only a single rose behind.
"For you." Tom elaborated, and his whole face was a deeper shade of purple than Marco had ever seen it, but he just grinned like a loon and accepted the gift.
"Thank you." He said in a near whisper, holding it delicately between his fingers, and found he meant it more now than he probably had in all his life. Tom hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but seemed to think better of it.
"You're welcome." Was what he settled on, then turned and walked away. Marco stayed on the porch until he was sure Tom wasn't returning then quickly opened the door and slammed it behind him. Star was on the other side, grinning, and Marco groaned.
"Not a word." He hissed, "He's probably just buttering me up so I'll let him go out with you alone. Which isn't happening!" He found the implied reason didn't quite fit anymore but pushed the thought aside for later.
"We all tell lies to comfort ourselves." Star singsonged, and left him to his musings.
He went to his room and set the rose down in his desk drawer, officially designated 'Tom's', flopping onto his bed and staring up at the sticky note, now peeling on the sides as it lost its stick. He reached out for a marker to change it again. It now read:
SOMETIMES
Almost ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR GUT!!
He smiled jovially up at it and fell asleep in his clothes.
***
Another year went by and by the time Marco's 16th birthday came around their outings were only affectionately called dates for nostalgia's sake, Tom never brought roses and rarely wore a suit, though he still complimented Star every chance he got. Monsters and demons never attacked them when Tom was around, something that both worried and relieved Marco. On the one hand, if there was something about Tom that was bad enough to keep all the citizens of the underworld away, he should probably be worried for his own safety as a fragile mortal (Star seemed to have no trouble freezing Tom in ice if he misbehaved, so he was less worried about her). On the other hand, he knew that as long as Tom was around they were safe from unwanted guests.
Occasionally he and Tom went on outings by themselves, and it was quieter without Star's continuous talking and laughter. He found it a nice reprieve, as much as he liked Star sometimes one just needed quiet, and enjoyed it while it lasted. There was something about Tom that made his gut scream safe, happy, don't let go, and he saw no qualms with this, so he listened. It was on such an outing that two very important things happened: Marco learned something he probably should've known a year ago, and received a gift he probably shouldn't have been given in the first place. They had gone to a nearby park in the evening, lying down on a hilltop to look at the stars. Tom had been acting unusually nervous that night, fidgeting, glancing down to his pockets more than strictly necessary, and had come in his suit; Marco was beginning to worry. To ease whatever was bugging him Marco thought he'd ask a safe question, one that had been on his mind anyway.
"Why is everyone from the underworld afraid of you?" He'd asked simply, expecting something along the lines of 'I have a tendency to burn my enemies to ash when I get pissed off so anyone dumb enough to mess with me died long ago', but Tom actually seemed to consider his answer, as if he was deciding what to tell him (the truth would be nice, Marco thought in annoyance, and wondered once again about Tom's third eye). In the end what he got was:
"My dad is king of the underworld, you attack me, it's considered a slight on him, and no one is dumb enough to do that." He'd said it entirely casually, too, albeit a bit stiffly, as if it was just a small fun fact about himself. Marco stared dumbfounded at him for a good minute, before doing the first thing that came to mind: he slapped Tom straight across the face.
"Are you telling me," he asked, voice deathly calm, "That I have been hanging out with and chaperoning the dates of a prince for the past two and a half years?!" It occurred to him later on that slapping may him have been a slight overreaction for the spoken reasons, but in the moment a deeper part of him felt betrayed, a traitorous voice in his mind hissing all this time and he's a prince, and you're just some human kid; you're not worthy, not good enough for- for what? He wasn't entirely sure, but his heart hurt more than ever before and the fact it was because of Tom only made it worse (Therefore, it was technically Tom's fault and he could technically blame him if he had been 5 years old). He realized, not ten seconds after, just why it was a bad idea to slap Tom, when his eyes glowed red and he cursed. Marco scooted back slowly and wondered why he'd ever thought it was a good idea to become friends with a demon in the first place, holding his hands up in a submissive gesture and flinched back when Tom turned back towards him and fire flickered in his palms.
"You- you fucking slapped me! How DARE you!" Tom hissed in a much deeper tone of voice than before, and the fire grew brighter as the scenery around them began to burn, lighting up the night sky in a blaze of reds and yellows. Marco started feeling more than a little uncomfortably hot and whoops, he had completely forgotten Tom's anger issues in the makeshift peace of-whatever they had had going on. Well, I've had a good one he supposed, wonder what life after death is like; maybe I should've asked Tom. Tom, ever one to surprise, froze and his eyes stopped glowing when he seemed to notice the look on Marco's face and appeared to struggle to compose himself, the fire extinguishing slowly around them. "Shit, no I-fuck." He muttered, rubbing his bruising cheek and looking around at the burnt remains of the hillside. He looked back at Marco and began to reach out to do-something, and Marco shuffled back further in fright. Tom froze, hand hovering in midair, and a look of such hurt overcame his features that Marco almost felt guilty, which was ridiculous because this was his pity party about being kept in the dark so long and nearly getting burnt to a crisp (again), not Tom's. Still, Tom took back his hand and stared at his claws with such a look of disgusted self-hatred that Marco found himself scooting closer to comfort, despite the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Before he could speak, however, Tom started again. "Sorry, sorry, I-shit, sorry. I'll just-I'm just going to-shit, I'll just walk you home, alright?" He babbled, seeming to lose some internal battle, and began to stand up. It was sort of a tradition of theirs, one Marco refused to think about for too long, and yet...
"NO! No, no, it's alright, I can walk myself home, thanks though. I don't want to hold you up from, um, whatever princes have to do." He said hastily, then bitterly as he spat out the infernal title. Tom just stood there, looking down at Marco's still-sitting form and- holy shit, his eyes were glassy, was he going to cry? Marco hoped not because he'd never seen Tom cry, hell, he didn't even know demons could cry, and if Tom started Marco wasn't sure what he was going to do. Something passed over Tom's face, however, and his features grew hard.
"Tch, whatever." He snapped, starting to back away, "Not like this was ever about you anyway." And with that he teleported in a bright flash of flames back to wherever he lurked when he wasn't on earth. Marco just gave a resigned sort of sigh, he'd known, of course, deep down, that it wasn't about him, that it never had been and never would be. And yet he found himself sniffling a bit, blinking back what were definitely not tears, that voice in his head growing louder and smugger: you're just a human, one sad little human who got lucky and found a special friend. It's not about you, it never was.
He shook his head violently as if to rid himself of the thoughts, and only then did he notice the velvet box sitting in the grass near where Tom had been moments ago. It must've fallen out of his pocket he thought to himself, and the hurt part of him made him pick it up and open in. Inside was another necklace, a pendant made of pure gold with glowing runes, in a language Marco had never seen before, carved into its surface. At its center gleamed one beautiful bright red ruby in the shape of an eye, and it reminded him of Tom's when he grew angry. Is this why Tom had brought him here? This necklace? Did he want him to give it to Star? He should give it to her, he should give it to her and tell her how it was a gift from Tom, and he knew she'd love it, but the cruel, hurt part of him refused. Star deserved better than Tom, he told himself, she should think he's lost interest so she can find better guys. Because there were better people out there than demons with anger issues. That's why.
We all tell lies to comfort ourselves. Star's words flashed in the back of his head and his gut gave a pull of agreement. He nearly screamed.
***
When he got home he ripped the sticky note off from above his bed and tore it to pieces, then shoved the box into the drawer with the two notes, the fortune, the rose, and those red, red, ruby eyes. He crawled into bed and gave up; crying himself to sleep for reasons he still did not fully understand (or maybe just refused to, he'll never tell, mostly because he'll never know.)
(He had his first nightmare in years that night, Tom's fire engulfing him and burning him slowly from the outside in, all while Tom laughed that infuriatingly beautiful laugh, then he woke up and cried some more.)
***
Tom didn't show up the rest of the month, or the next one, or the next, and Marco simply found himself too tired to mourn. His gut remained silent, and he figured even it had given up.
***
Marco walked past Star's mirror one day and stared at his reflection for a long time. His gut tugged at him for the first time in months, call him it said, he's waiting. Fix this, be brave. He continued to stare at himself, at the bags under his eyes, and the worn-out sweatshirt he wore all the time, at his so incredibly average, unimportant, human features, and just sighed sadly.
When he turned away his gut hissed out coward before going silent once more (He didn't bother to deny it).
***
This was it. He was going to die for real this time, thrown off a building by the hands of some psycho lizard who called himself Toffee; he supposed it could've gone down worse.
"What the fuck do you want anyway?" He spat angrily, there was no way this guy was just after Star's wand, he was too smart, too intensely personal, there had to be something else. He grinned down at Marco with pointy teeth and Marco thought he wouldn't reply, but eventually he did.
"I want many things." He stated casually, as if he wasn't dangling Marco over a 100-foot drop onto hard concrete. "I want the wand so my 'employer' will be satisfied," and the way he said employer gave Marco the impression Toffee was in control, rather than the other way around, "I want revenge on Star and her family," He continued down the list, "But mostly..." He paused for a while just to make Marco squirm (he didn't dare, if Toffee let go he'd be dead), "I want revenge on those pompous royals who think themselves above all others, and what better way to do so then cut off the weak link? The prince's little human plaything." Marco didn't even have time to protest all the ways that statement was wrong before he was flung off the edge and, just like that, it was the end. You waited too long, and that certainly didn't sound like his gut, but it sure felt like it, you couldn't tell him, you were too afraid.
"Tell him what?!" Marco screamed in absolute frustration, the whipping of the wind drowning out his voice. Instead of a response he got images, the long talks with Tom, the rose, the fluttering emotion he could never identify in his chest, the sticky note, the necklace. In his last moments, they all came together, like perfect puzzle pieces painting a picture. I love him. He thought in shock, I love him and there's nothing I can do because I'm going to die and he thinks I hate him because I wouldn't fucking let him walk me home. And god he felt so stupid! He had prided himself on being intelligent; gotten As in all his classes, and yet it had taken him nearly four fucking years to realize what his gut had known all along. Despite everything, he began to laugh; laugh at the irony and the cruelty of it, laugh at his own stupidity and ignorance, then contented himself with at least realizing it before he died, at least making peace with the feeling he'd been unable to identify all those years ago. His last thought before he hit the ground was something along the lines of this: listen to your gut, because it knows a whole lot more about you than you do.
***
If this was heaven, he wasn't particularly impressed. He hurt all over and there was an infernal continuous beeping sound and- wow, heaven sure looked a lot like a hospital. He looked around his bed and saw various things spread out: cards and gifts, a shit-ton of equipment including a heart monitor that he was going to punch if it didn't shut up, a glass of water and holy shit was his mouth dry. He reached over and chugged it, feeling instantly better, and put it back down. He picked up the cards that were within reach, reading them and laughing at the occasional funny ones (some were get well soon cards and some were birthday cards, which meant he'd been there for a while if his birthday had come and gone). He was about to open some of the gifts that were within reach when he noticed something: across from his bed was a vase, and inside was a single flaming rose. Marco nearly wept with relief, for more reasons than he could probably have expressed if someone had asked him to. He wanted to reach out and hold it, make sure it was really there, but his body felt like it had been bulldozed and he decided he wasn't particularly keen on getting up.
He was in the middle of opening Star's birthday gift when he heard the door handle begin to move, and looked at the nurse curiously as she walked in and promptly froze in shock at the sight of him awake. They had a stare off for a good minute or two, before she all but ran over and began asking him questions, including his date of birth, name, if he knew where he was, and he answered the best he could.
"I'm going to call your family and tell them you're awake, okay? They'll be very happy to see you." She said in a rush and quickly exited the room. His gaze drifted back to the rose and he smiled. As soon as I'm out of here, you'll know. He promised, and his gut seemed content.
***
Marco was shocked to learn he had been in a coma for a little over two months, and as soon as his mother had entered the room she'd laughed with tears in her eyes and ran to hug him. They talked for hours while she handed him the gifts and cards that had been out of reach, and it was only inevitable that the rose come up eventually.
"Honey," she began hesitantly, and Marco knew what was coming. He felt surprisingly calm, for all he had panicked over the years trying to find a way to tell her about Tom, "That rose has been on fire for the past month and a half, and it wasn't from Star or any of your relatives. Is there- is there something you want to tell me?" She prompted, and she didn't seem judgmental, or even all that upset, just tired. He felt bad, bad that he had been the cause of this exhaustion, bad that he'd kept it from her for so long, and so he told her everything, from the terrible first meeting to his realization in his latest near-death experience. She took it well, he had to give her credit for that, and as Star rushed into the room, school having just ended a little while ago, his mother had simply said: "If he makes you happy, I'm happy." Then kissed his forehead and left.
"How did I survive?" He asked promptly after she'd finished hugging him, looking at Star with serious eyes. She chewed her lips and glanced anywhere but at him before finally mumbling something he couldn't catch. "Could you say it a little quieter? We wouldn't want the whole building finding out." He said sarcastically, but she just sighed and shook her head.
"I don't- I mean, the sidewalk just opened up and, well, yeah; you fell through." She said, and Marco knew she knew more, knew there was more to the story, and was desperate to pry, but eventually settled on:
"Incredibly convenient." In a deadpan voice and Star just laughed, a little frantic, and nodded, the silence resuming. He waited, because that's all you ever had to do with Star, she would fill the quiet eventually.
"It was Tom. I think. He must've opened a portal to the underworld right where you fell, that's the only thing I can think of. It would've hurt, at the rate you were falling, but if you landed in the underworld it wouldn't have killed you, the portal takes acceleration off the object it transports and-"
"Are you telling me," Marco said, cutting off her babbling, "That you don't know, with the implication Tom hasn't actually spoken to you?" And it was such an incredibly asshole thing to do, yet so incredibly Tom that at this point Marco was surprised he was surprised. Star just sighed and shook her head.
"He stopped talking to me a long time ago, Marco. I don't know when I became the chaperone, but after that, it was pretty much all you." She said, and it occurred to him she'd known; before either he or Tom, she'd known. The fortune cookie, the cryptic words, and she had waited for him to figure it out, waited four years for him to figure it out, and he still hadn't. If he wasn't still recovering from what by all means should have been an actual death experience, he would've been embarrassed. He couldn't quite find it in him, though.
"Does he? Does he-" He trailed off, swallowing, asking because he had to know for sure, because there was still that part of him that pointed out oh-so-reasonably that Tom was the prince of hell and he was the human nerd who had really nothing to his name. Star gave him a look, and he knew that look, it was the 'I-can't-believe-you-haven't-figured-this-out-yet' look.
"Ask him yourself." Was all she said on the matter, and for one panicked second Marco though Tom would pop out of hiding somewhere. He didn't, and Marco was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Do it. His gut whispered, and he sighed.
"Two against one, I guess." He murmured, and Star's look changed to the one she'd given him the day he'd insisted his very-much-not-on-fire desk was on fire; the I'm-mildly-concerned-for-your-sanity look. "Yeah, okay, I'll ask. Once I get out of this damn hospital." He grunted out, then closed his eyes because talking about his feelings was tiring dammit, and he was an injured man.
***
He was released from the hospital a week later and given a ton of medication to take. Star had said he probably wouldn't need it and could throw it away, but Marco had always been one of those crazy people who'd actually listened to the doctor.
He sighed in relief once he'd arrived home, and went straight to his room, placing the medication on his nightstand and looking around to see if anything was amiss. He stiffened once his eyes fell on his desk; on top of it was the velvet box he'd found in the grass the evening of his fight with Tom, and next to it were three notes and the fortune Star had given him the first time they went to the Chinese restaurant as a trio. The first two notes were the elegantly scrawled apology and the birthday message from all those years ago (he opened the drawer to check and sure enough, the notes, the fortune, and the box were missing), the other was new and he picked it up, hands shaking just a little bit. On it was written three words:
I love you
Marco took a trembling breath and set the note down, taking the box and opening it, pulling the necklace out ever-so-carefully and placing it around his neck. The ruby eye shone back at him when he turned to look at himself in the mirror, the runes glowing faintly, and he clutched it to his chest, grinning as tears formed in his eyes. Go his gut yelled, go tell him. And Marco gave a watery laugh, turning, ready to rush to Star's mirror, when he noticed the blank spot in the wallpaper above his bed, a slightly less worn patch in the shape of a star. He grabbed his pen and another sticky note, scrawling something on it quickly, sticking it in its rightful place, then raced out.
Listen to your gut.