Chapter Text
“...Charles? Are you in here?”
The soft spoken friend of Charlie Brown creaks the door open to his room. He’s laying in his bed, facing away from the door. The lights are off, the light rays of the sun peeking out through Charlie Brown’s window being the only source of light in the room.
The boy in question can be heard silently weeping under his blankets. It’s been days since he’s gotten out of it. A determined Sally attempted to get her big brother out, but to no avail. Linus and Schroeder tried to help their friend as well, also to no success. He hadn’t said a word during any of these interactions, and nobody else had come to his aid, as if they actually cared. Lord knows Peppermint Patty did. The gal would just pick the boy up and force her out herself (to Charlie Brown’s pleas to put him back and leave him to rot away), but right now she was stuck in her own delusions again, believing that her good ol’ Chuck would come out after realizing how much she missed him.
Some stupid delusions, Marcie knew that much, but it was hopeful at the very least.
That hope clearly wasn’t enough, what with Marcie standing right in the doorway of Charlie Brown’s personal space. This wasn’t something she would usually do, anxiety and whatnot, but if no one else was going to make her Charles feel better, it may as well be her.
“...Charles, I’m coming in.”
With a sudden wave of newfound confidence, Marcie fully steps into the room, walking closer to Charlie. There were many things she could do right now to help the depressed boy, but right now, she just wished to comfort him and make him feel better. Oh, how she hated seeing him suffer so much, why hadn’t she done anything until now? It made Marcie feel terrible about herself. What kind of friend was she?
Well, right now, that was the least of her worries. Her best friend was isolating himself from the world, sulking heavily and refusing to go out into the light, and she certainly had to change that. Marcie sits on the side of the bed opposite of Charlie Brown. She didn’t necessarily know where to go from here.
“...Charles, um…Peppermint Patty has been, uh, worried about you. She misses you a lot…”
Still no response…
“...Charles, please, come on, talk to me. I-I’m scared and worried about you…”
Marcie was never one for confrontation, let alone barging into someone’s house uninvited and trying her best to comfort someone in a deep state of depression at the miniature age of 8. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure what she could do at this point if Charlie never responded. Should she just leave?
“...Why?”
Marcie jumps at the sudden voice now speaking after such a long time. It’s deep and strained, sounding tired and unbelievably dejected, spitting out sorrow and melancholy like a venom to poison. Nevertheless, Marcie presses on. It was Charles speaking to her, after all.
“...Why wh-what, Charles?”
There’s a long pause before he speaks again.
“...Why are you here…? Don’t you hate me like everyone else…?”
Charlie Brown continues facing away from Marcie, continuing to sulk and cry his turmoil away. The glasses-wearing girl swallows her fear and responds.
“With all due respect, Charles, what kind of question is that?” she asks him rhetorically.
“I…thought we’ve had this talk before.”
“...What talk?”
“Well…you know that I’m always fond of you. I really do hate it seeing you suffer all the time…and I really do mean it when I said that you were the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”
The silence is deafening. Marcie sees this as permission to continue speaking.
“I…I really care about you, Charlie Brown. If no one’s told you before, at least you heard it from me.”
Marcie gulps again before scooching closer to Charlie Brown, kissing the back of his head in a desperate attempt of comforting him.
“I’ll be leaving now, Charles…I hope you come out soon. If not for anyone else, for me…I beg.”
Marcie gets up from the bed, solemnly walking to the door.
“...Wait. Marcie.”
Marcie turns around to see a disheveled Charlie Brown laying in bed. There’s cuts on his face and arms.
“...Please stay…”