Work Text:
When Marco got called to the principal's office he was excited. This was it, no more bullying, no more 'Marco, the safest kid in town!', no more being mocked for perfect grades, no more...
***
Peace and quiet. No more peace and quiet, that's what. Star Butterfly was a transfer student, a princess from a small country across the globe, and it was Marco's job to babysit her. The reason there was going to be no more peace and quiet was because along with Star came one suspicious staff she claimed was magic (Marco didn't believe in magic, but Star sure did), a couple dozen buff dudes who came to try and steal said staff on a daily basis (as well as their tiny boss who never fought but was always there anyway), and a whole lot more attention in school than Marco was ready for.
Everyone loved Star, and Star loved everyone; she was always kind and caring, friendly and sunny, and could work her magic on just about anyone. People wanted to be her friend, and this was a problem. Why? Because when people noticed Star they noticed Marco, and when he said everyone, he meant everyone, including the person he'd hoped would NEVER notice him.
Tom didn't know about Marco's existence, which was just fine with Marco because that meant he could pine from afar and not worry about the bad boy in school mocking him for his nerdiness and obsession with safety on top of being head-over-heels for him. Tom, whose jet-black hair seemed to naturally stick up at odd angles to perfectly mirror a flame. Tom, who had multiple earrings on each ear, and who always wore too-tight shirts and jeans which made his abs and ass look fantastic. Tom, whose beautiful purple eyes were (probably) contacts, but whose grin could make weaker men and women faint. Yes, from his black converse to his shark-tooth (Tom claimed it was a demon's tooth, but Marco didn't believe in demons, either) necklace, Tom was perfect, and Marco had been smitten since he'd first laid eyes on him.
Which was precisely why Tom could not find out about Marco's existence. For as much as Tom was beautiful, he was cruel. Ferguson had been shoved into a locker on multiple occasions for 'being in Tom's way', despite the fact he'd been standing right next to his locker and the rest of the hallway had been free. Tom also had an anger streak a mile wide (He'd sent a kid to the hospital once in 3rd grade for trying to play with the monster truck toy he'd wanted), and his dad was rich, rich enough for Tom to be a prince, who could make any of Tom's problems go away by throwing money at them. In short? Tom was a spoiled brat who wouldn't hesitate to make roadkill of an easy target like Marco.
So Marco pined from afar, watching Tom and his friends from the library window as they sat outside on the hoods of their cars, laughing at Oskar while he played music with increasingly ridiculous lyrics. Marco pretended he was there with them, slotted under Tom's arm and laughing along; he could almost feel the heat of Tom's embrace, feel him bend down and kiss his head and call him by some affectionate nickname, feel the warm glow of being utterly content. He shuddered and smiled in bliss, lost in his own fantasies, when he was rudely pulled back to reality by someone dive-bombing into the other half of the couch he was on and shoving a bag of popcorn under his nose.
"Whatcha lookin' at?" Star asked brightly, munching on a handful of kernels. Marco saw the librarian glare bloody murder and them and winced, shushing her before they were kicked out. She refused to relent, however, and only grew more insistent when Marco didn't answer immediately. "Someone out there? Or are you just listening to Oskar?" She asked, following his line of sight, then grew soft at the name. "He's dreamy, isn't he?" She cooed, swooning a little, and Marco tried his hardest not to wince in disgust.
"Uh, yeah, sure." He mumbled, turning back to the window and staring mournfully down at the life he could never have. Star glanced at him suspiciously, then back down again, and gave a huge gasp.
"Waaaaaait a minute! You have a crush don't you?" She accused, and when Marco blushed deep red she squealed. "That's adorable! Oh, you two would be so cute together!" She was bouncing up and down on the couch now, and Marco shushed her again.
"It doesn't matter," he said quickly, "I don't have a chance anyway, so it's not important." It was a half-plead for Star to drop it; two could keep a secret if one of them was dead, after all, and Marco was in no mood to have to kill a girl he'd just met.
"That's not true! I'm sure she'd love you, we just have to get her to notice!" Star insisted and Marco froze because her? He spun back around and realized there was only one girl down there: Jackie.
"Uh, yeah! Jackie!! Ha-ha. She's, um, hot; right?" He responded, because he could do this, Jackie seemed nice, and they had a mutual head-nod thing going on whenever they got into school at the same time. He squirmed and gave Star his best I'm-totally-serious-and-not-lying-at-all-right-now look, and she seemed to buy it; much to his relief.
Relief that instantly vanished when she opened and leaned out the window, and Marco realized in one horrified moment what she was going to do. Time seemed to slow down as Star opened her mouth to shout for the group's attention, and before he knew what he was doing Marco was yanking her back and throwing her to the floor. This, of course, caused her to crash into a bookcase, which caused all the books to come tumbling down onto both of them, resulting in the loudest racket Marco had ever heard.
And that was the story of how Marco Diaz and Star Butterfly got banned forever from the school library.
(It was also the story of the beginning of the end, as Marco would say if he were feeling poetic, because Tom had looked up, had watched the entire thing with those piercing purple eyes, and Marco knew he was a goner. He wasn't feeling poetic, though, he was in the principal's office with a raging migraine while being told off about 'roughhousing on campus' and wasn't in the mood, so the story of being kicked out of the library it remained.)
***
Looking back it did occur to Marco that the whole fiasco had been a series of coincidences, ones the universe no doubt cooked up because of its eternal loathing for him, from the scene in the library to everything that had happened afterwards.
It also occurred to him that a major part of it had been due to his own stupidity, which the universe may or may not have been counting on when it decided to mess with him, and that he probably had no one to blame but himself (he'd given up trying to blame the universe, it always seemed to have the perfect excuse and people would usually just look at him like he was crazy). Regardless of who was to blame or how it happened, the beginning of his doom started something like this:
The first coincidence was that Marco had actually managed to dress well that day. This was because he had stayed up all night studying for a pop quiz he'd overheard the TA talking about, so he'd been up early enough to put in contacts and choose a decent outfit (His favorite Beatles shirt and an old leather jacket his dad had given him, with a beat-up pair of jeans and his vans that were just a size too small but looked good on him).
The second was that both he and Star were exhausted. She always complained he woke her up multiple times when he paced the hallways muttering to himself, but he'd always taken information in best when he moved so he figured she'd just have to suffer along with him on all-nighters (cruel, maybe, but that’s what she got for coming half-way across the globe just to ruin his life by getting him noticed by the hottest boy in school). This meant they were both sleep-deprived and feeling the effects when they walked into school. Star's often manifested in rare shows of irritation, her usual cheerfulness all but gone; Marco's just made his senses dull, including his mental alerts of Very Dangerous Situations.
The third coincidence was more of an inevitability, the fact the rumors of their little 'adventure' had blown beautifully out of proportion, and the story now was they'd both intentionally gone into the library and knocked over several bookcases, screaming the entire time. This version amused Marco, mostly because he'd never do something like that (desire to be a 'bad boy' or no), and he was inwardly laughing through the entirety of first and second period. In other words, it was funny until all three coincidences came to a head; then it wasn't.
They were sitting under their favorite tree for lunch when it happened, Marco munching away at an apple and blissfully unaware of their surroundings due to his sleep-addled state. He missed all the signs because of this, the stomping of self-entitled feet, the increase of obnoxious laughter, and the sound of the voice that haunted Marco's dreams. His usual instinct to hide, which had saved him on more occasions that he could count, wasn't triggered in time, and he looked up when he saw two black converse stop in front of him and Star.
Time froze. Purple eyes stared down at him, crinkled in amusement at something Marco had missed, and for a horrified second he thought maybe he'd died and this was heaven. It was too bad, he'd been planning on going places in his life, helping the world of psychology, and now he'd just have to sit here and hope people figured it out without him.
"So, you two the ones who trashed the library?" And HOLY SHIT Tom was talking to THEM; rest in piece Marco's soul.
Marco's mouth opened and closed, searching for words and finding none, but Star saved him from his humiliation.
"Yeah, what's it to you?" She snapped, irritation leaking through. Tom seemed taken aback, as if he wasn't used to people daring to speak rudely to him, then laughed.
"Bold move." He said with a grin, "Mr. Finstock isn't one who just takes shit. 'Bout time the bastard got what was coming to him, though." There was a murmur of agreement from Tom's followers, who stood behind him, waiting to react in the way Tom wanted.
Marco realized that this was Tom COMPLIMENTING them, that he hadn't sneered and kicked dirt into their lunch then walked away, because Marco didn't look like an easy target in his leather jacket and vans (and Star always looked like she was sweet but could kick your ass at any second), he looked like a normal guy who'd just given an asshole librarian a taste of his own medicine. This was a once in a lifetime chance to get Tom's attention without being ground into the dust and fuck if he wasn't too tired to not take it. Before Star could open her mouth and tell Tom exactly where he could shove his admiration, Marco started to speak.
"Yeah, the dick's always pissing on everyone, just the other day he kicked me out because I SNEEZED, and I told him he'd regret it; now he does." It was the biggest bullshit he'd ever spouted, the most he'd cursed in one sentence, and he could feel Star's shocked stare on the back of his head. He didn't care, though, TOM was HERE, and that was all that mattered. Tom smirked at him and squatted down to get on his level.
"No kidding?" He said, his voice low, and cocked his head in a way that had Marco's heart jumping into his throat.
"Y-yeah." He squeaked, and winced at his own voice. Tom reached out and took Marco's chin in his hand, tilting his head as if examining the quality of an object. He appeared to like what he saw because he gave a flirtatious smirk and leaned in to whisper into Marco's ear.
"Well, if you're ever looking to have some REAL fun, my door's always open." He slipped a piece of paper into Marco's hand and pulled away, standing back up and walking off, his gaggle of followers trailing after him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Marco looked down dazedly in blissed-out confusion and the cluster of numbers for a few moments, eventually realizing it was a phone number.
"What a dick." Star spat, eyes narrowed and glaring daggers at Tom retreating back, "He thinks he can just walk up to you and treat you like some-some-!" She struggled for words, and a voice in the back of Marco's mind screamed she was right, that Tom wasn't offering what Marco wanted, wasn't treating him like an equal. There was a bigger voice, though, screaming louder, saying that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he'd be a fool not to take it. The two voices warred in his head, and he struggled to think over their screeching.
Star reached over to grab the paper, no doubt to tear it to pieces, but Marco clutched it to his chest before she could, shaking his head frantically. She frowned at him, and they were both silent for a while.
"You can't honestly be considering-"
"Star, this is my one chance-"
They both started talking at the same time, then blinked at each other.
"What about Jackie?" Star asked in confusion, and Marco laughed a little hysterically.
"I never liked Jackie, YOU said I liked Jackie. C'mon Star, this is my chance, he liked me!" He said eagerly, then curled up on himself at the pitying look Star gave him.
"Oh, Marco," She sighed, then scooted over to hug him. "He doesn't like you, he wants-well. You know what he wants. He's just going to throw you away after that. It’s just casual lust on his part, he’s not genuine." She said, petting him.
"You sound like you're talking from experience," Marco muttered bitterly, swatting at her hand. She was right, of course, he knew she was right, but it still stung; he still wanted.
"I am." Star responded a little sadly, and Marco immediately felt guilty. She was just trying to help, she'd barely known him for a month and she was already a loyal friend.
"Sorry." He whispered, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it in the direction of the trash can. He missed and immediately got up to go throw it in the recycling instead (because it was bad to litter, his brain reminded him, and it was important to recycle), causing Star to laugh.
"Some bad boy you are." She teased, and he sputtered in indignation, then promptly threw it in the trash.
"I didn't recycle it, that's bad!" He insisted, but Star just laughed harder, her usual joy returning once more.
***
Tom wasn't used to being told no; something that occurred Marco around the third week after what he was now calling 'The Incident'. He'd promised Star he wouldn't take Tom up on his offer (and by extension he'd promised HIMSELF), but he still got up earlier every morning so he could find better outfits, and hadn't worn his glasses outside the house once. He'd also refrained from doing anything particularly 'nerdy', much to his friend's chagrin and Star's suspicion, but he figured just because he wasn't going to say yes to Tom didn't mean he couldn't look good while he had the guy's interest; he'd do it until Tom got bored and moved on.
In the beginning, Tom appeared to be waiting for Marco to come to him. Tom went about his usual routine as if nothing had happened, and while Marco was mildly disappointed he was also relieved. The only visible change was he noticed Marco's gaze more often, or maybe he always had and had just ignored it until recently (wasn't THAT a scary thought), and returned the look each time, giving Marco a wicked smirk and a not-so-subtle look-over that had him blushing furiously and turning away. Eventually Marco willed himself to stop looking at Tom, which was hard because for as long as he could remember staring at that perfect face was what got him through the harder times, and for a while it seemed like things would go back to normal.
Then he found a bouquet of roses in his locker, and it occurred to him stopping Tom's advances was going to be harder than he'd originally anticipated.
Tom seemed to have grown impatient around the middle of the third week; as if he couldn't comprehend why anyone would take so long to accept such a golden invitation (Marco began to resent his entitlement). He wasn't used to being rejected, Marco realized; most of his problems either magically disappeared with his dad's influence or were resolved by him beating the crap out of someone. People bowed at his feet, and if he told someone he wanted to fuck them, they agreed willingly and quickly.
Marco wasn't going to be one of those people.
The thing about Tom's advances was, as Marco would learn later on, that hey generally brought along a slew of difficulties at Marco's expense. The roses, for example, gave Marco several lovely bruises and a black eye.
"Hey FAGGOT! What's that you got in your locker?" Aaaand wonderful, just what he needed at 8 in the morning.
"Leave me alone Jackson." Marco groaned, trying to slam his locker shut to avoid inspection. Jackson was too quick, however, stopping it from closing then shoving Marco out of the way.
"Ooooh! Looks like the little sissy likes to keep his locker smelling fresh!" Jackson cackled in his annoying voice, then pushed Marco to the floor. Marco ground his teeth and resisted the urge to fight back; he hated unnecessary violence. The goons he and Star fought were one thing, but his classmates were another. "What scent's your favorite, pansy, sweet rose?" His group of fellow football players laughed obnoxiously behind him, and Marco wanted to bite out how weak of an insult that had been, but he knew the best option in these scenarios was generally keeping his mouth shut. Jackson appeared not to like his silence, however, because soon he was kicking at Marco's side and sneering. "What's the matter faggot, another guy got your tongue?" He made kissy noises and Marco grinned up at him.
"Sorry, you'll have to wait your turn to get these lips." He retorted, and Jackson stared in shock for a moment, before a look of absolute fury overcame his features.
"You little BITCH." He hissed, then drove his foot straight into Marco's gut with force, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping for breath. Jackson and his goons laughed one last time then walked off, and Marco was left alone in the hallway.
It took a few good minutes for Marco to gather himself together enough to get up, and he winced at the pain in his abdomen; those were going to leave a mark. He limped back to his locker, then glared bloody murder at the roses inside, all feelings of silent joy gone after Jackson's bullying. He grabbed them and threw them in the trash, then took his books and stormed off to the first class of the day.
"What happened to you?" Star asked during lunch when Marco all but fell down next to her in their usual spot. He gave a grunt and groped blindly for his lunch, Star eventually taking pity on his plight and moving it within reach. He winced when groping at a particular angle made his side throb, and threw a hand to it with a pained groan. She frowned and badgered him about it, but eventually gave up when it appeared that he wasn't going to be speaking anytime soon.
Lunch was almost over when Star nudged his side. "Let's go, a certain someone is staring at you like you're a particularly interesting piece of meat." She said, standing up and offering Marco a hand. He bit his lip and willed himself not to turn and look, because he knew that was what Tom wanted and he'd be damned if he was giving that asshole the satisfaction.
Ignoring him seemed to be the wrong thing to do because he found roses in his locker the next day too, and quickly slammed it shut before Jackson could catch sight of them. He groaned and wondered if he could go to class without any of his books or materials, then glanced around nervously when he concluded it was probably a bad idea, checking to see if the coast was clear to open his locker again. It was and he opened it as fast as possible, grabbing his supplies then closing it once more, and hurried off to class. This repeated every period until the end of school, and once everyone had gone home he grabbed the roses and dumped them in the trash.
The cycle went on for the next few days, and he was ready to storm over to Tom's table to karate chop him a new one by the end of the week, because consequences be damned, this was getting RIDICULOUS. This was the exact point, of course, when the fates decided to intervene.
It was Friday afternoon and the last period before the sweet freedom of the weekend, and Marco was excited. So excited, in fact, that he forgot to check his surroundings when opening his locker and didn't realize his mistake until he heard a cold voice.
"Well, well, well. Look what the sissy's still got in his locker! And it's even a pretty color!" Jackson cackled, and Marco swiveled around in horror. He was standing there, grinning like a predator at its prey, with his group of goons behind him. Then Marco looked over Jackson's shoulder and several things happened at once:
Jackson reached out past him to grab the rose from inside his locker while Marco's eyes met slightly confused purple ones from across the hall and-oh. oh; oh FUCK. Tom watched the scene from the sidelines, his whole body tense, and this was it, the day Marco's life ended from a mix of embarrassment and black eyes. His eyes never left Tom's as Jackson yanked the rose out, ripping it to pieces while he and his team laughed mockingly. He'd liked this rose, it was purple like Tom's eyes, and he was secretly planning on taking it home and putting it in a vase (because he was only human and his self-control had been stretched thin enough as it was), but it looked like it wasn't meant to be. The bell rang to indicate the beginning of the next period, and for a while no one moved. Jackson was grinning provocatively, waiting for a reaction, and Marco watched in almost slow motion as Tom turned and left. Marco looked back down at the remains of the rose and tried to resist crying because he'd known Tom was an asshole, and he'd known Tom didn't actually care, but that didn't stop the hurt.
"Awww, is the faggot going to cry?" Jackson laughed it utter glee when Marco refused to look up, and Marco mentally prepared himself for the beating that was about to follow.
(The roses stopped coming after that, at least.)
***
He'd nearly put the incident behind him, no longer looking around when he opened his locker or expecting anything in it to not be exactly how he'd left it, which is why he'd nearly jumped in surprise when he opened it and there was another purple rose. He glanced frantically around him out of instinct and his heart froze when he saw Jackson there, standing across the hall from him and watching. Marco turned back to his locker and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the taunting words and mocking laughter; they never came. He glanced back at Jackson and blinked in confusion at his face; he looked pale as a ghost, and when he noticed Marco's gaze he quickly scampered off.
Marco stood there a minute in shock, watching Jackson's retreating back, half-expecting him to turn around and rush back. He never did, and eventually Marco looked back at the rose, taking it out and brushing his fingers oh-so-carefully along its petals. They were soft and beautiful (and purple), and with no one there to mock him he could fully admire them without fear. He brought it to his nose and inhaled the scent, blushing faintly and grinning like an idiot, giggling slightly to himself at the improbability of it all.