(No no you haven't said anything! Seriously. Just in the Orient Express rp)
Mare was jolted out of her thoughts. She looked up at Marianne, smiling blankly. She shook her head. "Yeah, fine. Sorry." She tightened her grip ON Marianne's hand.
(oh oof
I'm usually more flexible in o/o rps, so dw about it)
Marianne's eyes searched Mare's, noticing with worry that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Are- Are you sure? Do you want me to back off a little?"
"No!" Mare said quickly. "That's the one thing I don't want." She crossed her legs, wrapping Marianne's hands in hers.
Marianne squeezed her– girlfriend's? crush's?— hands in hers. "Then what's on your mind?"
(do you know Blood Brothers?)
Mare shook her head violently. "Nothing worth a thought." She turned her back to Marianne. "You know what?" She stood and went to her desk. "I have to work on my choreography. Do you mind going?" She didn't look at Marianne.
(Isn't that a book? I feel like I've heard the name somewhere)
Marianne tensed with worry for her friend, but she knew better than to push. "Sure," she said quietly, laying a comforting hand on Mare's shoulder. "See you tomorrow, text me if you want to talk." She slipped away before Mare could respond.
Mare whirled around to change her mind, ask her to stay, but the door was already closed. She sat down, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn't bring herself to reach for her shelf, to move.
(it started off as a play and there's a musical of it)
(Aw Mare)
(Oh cool! I’ll check it out)
(Also, a side note, when I said ‘sensitive’, I meant to do your research, be accurate, put a trigger warning above your post, don’t say anything offensive)
Guilt crushed Marianne all the way back to her house. That she hadn’t stayed. That she hadn’t been there for Mare.
This is your fault? Turn around right now and fix this. But she could never make herself.
When she finally got home, she went straight to her room, shutting the door firmly behind her and laying down on her bed. After a long time, how long, she didn’t know, she pulled out her phone and sent two words to Mare.
I’m sorry.
(okay that's fair. I just wasn't sure cause I don't write stories like Alice's very often and I wasn't sure if I'd gone too far or what)
Mare closed her eyes and, with a trembling hand, reached for the bottle on her top shelf. She stared at the near empty bottle, bile already rising in her throat. Mare closed her eyes, thinking back to lunch, to how Marianne had made her smile, made her laugh, bought her lunch— a lot of lunch.
Inhaling sharply and holding her breath, Mare raised the bottle of 'cleanse' to her lips– she pulled away, unable to stand the smell.
She gripped it tighter, lifted the bottle and took a generous swig. Within minutes, she'd locked herself in the bathroom.
When she walked out of her bathroom, pale and unstable, her phone buzzed. She picked it up: it was from Marianne. I'm sorry.
_What for? _
(Nah it's fine, I can go pretty far in terms of the darkness of a story, but thanks for being careful)
Marianne stared at the screen for a second, thumbs hovering over the letter keys.
Not staying when you were evidently upset.
(to clarify, that's what she responded)
(of course)
I'm past it.
Mare went to her wardrobe, pulled out her leotard, quickly put it on and got to practicing.
Marianne didn't believe a word of it.
I'm still sorry, she sent back, biting down on her tongue. Worry roiled in her stomach, making her wish she had never turned her back on the amazing girl who had let her into her life.
(ah flufffff)
Mare hesitated, and didn't text back. She continued on, and stopped at around 6 pm. She collapsed onto her bed and was asleep within minutes.
(Ahhhhh)
(Good morning/afternoon)
Mare didn’t text back. By the time it was 6 pm, Marianne was literally sick with worry and guilt.
I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry— she kept thinking, over and over again, but there was nothing she could do from her house.
Mare woke up when her dad got home. He walked into her room and sat on the edge of her bed.
"T'as mange?" (have you eaten) Mare groggily nodded. Her father kissed the top of her head and left her alone. She rolled onto her back and picked up her phone, deciding to open Marianne's text.
Hey.
Marianne was conjugating Latin verbs when she heard her phone go off. She sprang up immediately, snatching it off the top of her dresser and unlocking it.
MARE: Hey.
MARIANNE: Hey ❤️
She decided to go for a light text instead of bombarding her with worried questions, hopefully something to improve her mood.
(uuuggggh I hate Latin)
A small smile flitted across Mare's face.
What are you up to?
(oof same)
Marianne bit down on her chapped bottom lip, fingers dancing over the keys again. Please be okay… she prayed as she sent a reply.
MARIANNE: Aw, you don't like it when I send you hearts?
Mare giggled quietly.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Better?
Marianne's shoulders sagged a little in relief, though she knew how easily Mare could be faking something through text.
MARIANNE: Much :) How are you doing?
Mare paused.
Absolutely terrible actually.
She backspaced.
I'm great :)
She backspaced.
Fine.
She groaned and fell back onto her bed.
I'm doing acceptably.
Here came the worry again.
MARIANNE: Define 'acceptable'?
Tired. Slightly hungry.
She sighed loudly, needing to change the subject.
How about you?