Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You couldn’t believe you let yourself get to this place, again. You’ve endured the long and hard fight of depression ever since you could remember, but the last few years had at least been on the upswing. But lately, you’ve been shoving your feelings down your throat, you’ve been bursting at the seams with horrible self-criticism, and, most importantly, you haven’t been putting yourself first. Your self-imposed mental breakdown was inevitable.

You couldn’t just wake up and put on your façade again. Nope. You were mentally and physically drained to the core. The only thing you could logically put together was calling in sick for work. It’d been at least a week now. You knew you had to go back soon and that riddled you with anxiety. The never-ending dialogue ran rampant through your brain, and you’d given it the run of the place.

You have friends. Family, too. But none of them were close. Either in physical distance or relationship-wise. Have any of them reached out to you? Well… does sending memes count? The answer was ‘no’. There was one friend you had made recently. A seemingly shady character, to most. But he made an impression one night and you’d been glued to the hip ever since. His name was Mary. Mary Goore.

He made you feel alive. Which by itself was addicting, especially when you ached for the sweet release of death. Okay, so, dramatic. But c’mon, life is hard. And when you wanted to escape your pain, you decided to roam a local cemetery at night. You did that sometimes. It’s peaceful and quiet. You are free to express any thought in your head to your pick of gravestones. And who doesn’t love that? A whole audience and none of them would judge you.

But there was one audience member that was beyond the grave. He had been listening to all your woes and worries, soaking in every single detail you’d ramble on about for the past hour. He made his presence known to you when he had enough of your problems. This obviously pissed you off and you gave him an earful. But his damned shit-eating grin made you laugh. And the way your cute face scrunched in anger, cheeks red… he knew he’d love messing with you. Isn’t the best foundation for a friendship is to start off as enemies?

Since then, you’d met him many times in the cemetery. He’d even pull you along to some hole-in-the-wall bar. Not really your scene, but seeing Mary let loose every now and then made you like him even more. None of your family knew about him. Neither did your friends. In fact, the few months you had known each other, you’d probably name him the person who knew you the best.

But there were still secrets, right? Neither of you had had a serious heart-to-heart, yet. That basically defines when someone is your best friend. And Mary liked to tiptoe over any official terminology. He never felt the need to label anything in his life. He liked your company. You liked his. It should be as simple as that.

Mary didn’t realize how much he had grown fond of you over the last few months. But the fact that he hadn’t heard from you for a little over a week now, did make him worry. Not like he’d show you that. Mary wasn’t good at conveying his feelings. In fact, his motto was more along the lines of ‘fuck feelings’. But still… the feeling gnawed at him to go and check on you. So, he did.

He had been to you place a few times. It started off as walking you home from the cemetery. Then walking you home from the seedy bars, which he always needed to use your bathroom once he got there. You were weary at first, but if this man had wanted you dead… He had a perfectly good cemetery to do the deed. And Mary definitely would’ve taken advantage of that. And the second he walked through your door, you wish he hadn’t. Goore had no filter. He let you know exactly what his thoughts were on your interior decoration.

You lived in a small house. Nothing special. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. A tiny kitchen with a cozy living room. It was still more room than Mary had wherever he lived. You hadn’t been to his place, yet, and you weren’t gonna push it. If he wanted you over, he would’ve invited you. But soon he would come over to eat dinner and watch shitty movies. Or you two would pick up some vinyls and have a smoke sesh.

As he walked up to your place, he noticed your car in the driveway. Okay, so she is home… playing hooky from me? he thought. He knocked on your front door awkwardly. He felt like a little kid going to knock on some kid’s door to come outside and play. He looked around the door for a key after a few minutes had passed of silence. No luck. Your car was in the driveway… but no lights on in the house? Maybe you were somewhere else? “Fuck, why am I playing Nancy-fucking-Drew? Just go back to the bar and have a little fun” he mumbled to himself.

As he started to walk away, that little thread of human decency stung in his heart. He growled and yelled, “FUCK THIS,” and stormed back to your place. But this time, he wasn’t going to use the front door. He climbed up a column of your covered stoop. He pulled himself onto the roof and haphazardly made his way to the upstairs window.

He pressed his head against the glass, eyes cupping around him to get a better view inside. He was annoyed that you only used sheer curtains; Any creep could do what he was doing. He squinted through the glass and saw you. His eyebrows furrowed and he panicked, a bit. You were laying in bed. Not moving. He couldn’t even see if you were breathing, there were so many blankets piled on top of you. He made a fist and knocked on the window, “HEY! It’s your friendly neighborhood ghoul. Avoiding me already?” he stood there, dangling the bait.

You heard knocking downstairs, but immediately decided to ignore it. You weren’t in the mood for company. A struggling voice and heavy footsteps creaking through your roof made you believe that this visitor was Mary. You swaddled yourself up more in blankets and told yourself that if he knocked on your window, you weren’t going to answer it, either.

“Hey… I see you in there, sugar tits… Could you at least let me know you’re not some rotten fucking corpse? And if you are… can I have your place?” his muffled voice said through your window. You slowly prodded a hand out from your cocoon and held it to the window, holding up a middle finger. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Shit, she’s alive… okay… good, he thought.

“You know I’m not gonna leave now, right? Flipping me off? Real mature” he laughed out, trying to get more of a reaction from you. You put your hand away and snuggled into your depression nest deeper. But he just. kept. knocking. “Still nothin’?” he asked, “Did I ever tell you that one time I got my dick stuck in a drainpipe?” he teased you with another obnoxious tale.

You growled in annoyance and flung the blankets from your bed. You marched straight over to your window and flung it open, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT, GOORE?” you yelled at him, a little lightheaded from your quick uprising. You stumbled but braced yourself on the window frame. Mary was happy you had gotten up, but seeing you sway made his eyebrows furrow. “You sick or something?” he asked while backing his head away, “I don’t do well with colds, so you gotta tell me NOW, sweet cheeks. Am I gonna catch this?” he grimaced.

You rolled your eyes and backed away from the window, slumping to your bed. Your tone was harsh with annoyance, “No”. He crept through the opening and stomped down from the window. He shut it, locked it, and turned towards you. “So… you gonna tell me where the fuck you were? I was waiting by the Bolet Mausoleum all night… well, for like an hour. But you get the poin-” he took in the sight around him, “Shit, baby… looks like a fuckin’ bomb went off in here”. Trash littered everywhere. Clothes all over the floor. It looked and smelled stale. Your room had never looked like this before. Hell, your entire house combined never had this much of a mess.

Your cheeks went red with embarrassment and your eyes wallowed up with tears. At this point you had no emotional control; They ran down your cheeks with no holds barred. Your muffled cries were instantly noticed by Mary. His demeanor softened and he walked to your bedside and sat on the edge. He didn’t know what to say or what to do.

“So, if you’re NOT sick… Is this a period thing?” he bluntly asked, not knowing what else to say or do. You pulled the covers from your face and looked him in the eyes. You used your feet to kick his butt off from your bed. He stumbled, standing up, cursing at you. Your tear-stained cheeks made his jaw tighten. “FUCK, I’m just depressed, alright?” you blurted out, more tears falling, “Can you just LEAVE. ME. ALONE?” you barked at him. And he barked back, “DON’T YOU GO CHEWING MY ASS OUT” he pointed a finger at you, “I actually came looking for you because we’re friends!” His confession made his cheeks blush a bit; An extremely rare sight.

“Please” you whispered, head dipping back into your pillow, “Just leave”. He growled at you in frustration but took a deep breath. He made his way to your bedside and looked into your eyes, “Tough shit, hot stuff. I’m not leavin’… And whether you like it or not, I’m gonna take run of the place” he stood up and crossed his arms, “Gonna get you feelin’ better… and I swear if you give me shit for this later, I’m gonna snap that Ghost vinyl you love so much, in half” he threatened you. But that was Mary’s love language. And you knew by now that he wouldn’t actually snap that vinyl in half. Or you at least hoped so.

“Please, Mare… stop… this is embarrassing, and I know you’re doing this because you feel awkward or something…” you teared up, “…please don’t pity me”. His eyebrows furrowed, utterly annoyed with your analysis. “Listen, babe. I don’t just do domestic shit for anybody…” he said scoldingly, but a shade of rose plagued his face, “Pity? I wouldn’t call it that”. Your lip quivered at him, tears forming in your eyes, and his face softened.

He put a hand on your cheek, wiping away loose tears. You breathed into his guitar-calloused hand, embracing the human contact. You hadn’t realized you ached for it this much. You closed your eyes and relished in his comfort. Mary broke the silence, “Now… shut your pretty fucking mouth and let me take care of you”. You mustered up a small grin and opened your eyes to meet his. He wasn’t asking but ordering his company upon you. And you didn’t mind.

He fished out your hands from the blankets and grabbed hold of them, pulling you up to a sitting position. You groaned, but sat there, hunched. Your hair looked awful; skin was pale. He could tell you haven’t showered in a while, but he didn’t judge. Mary definitely had experience in that category; Whether it was drifting, being on tour with his small band, or having his address be some random cemetery for weeks on end.

He didn’t say anything to you but grabbed hold of your body and lifted you up, helping you stand. He was stronger, yet gentler, than you expected. You were a zombie, simply following directions. He guided you to your bathroom and sat you down on the fluffy toilet seat. He started the shower for you, making sure it was warm enough. He figured you were like most babes; You only bathed in Hellfire.

He awkwardly looked at you, but you continued to sit there, unfazed. “Do you, uh, need help?” he asked quietly. Your lip pouted out, unable to form words. You were just so weak and tired. Taking off clothes seemed like the biggest challenge in the world. You nodded your head yes but looked at him with embarrassment. “Could you?” you whimpered out.

He grabbed onto the bottom of your sweatshirt and slowly pulled it over your head. You could at least help him navigate your arms through the openings. You shied away, covering your chest, as to not make him uncomfortable. He tightened his jaw. He could tell you weren’t taking care of yourself. He knew you were beautiful already, without having to see you topless.

He caught himself staring, “Oh, shit- I’m sorry. I’m being a total perve right now, aren’t I?” he looked away. “No, no, no, Mary… I just don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than you probably already are” you clarified. “Are you kidding me?” he laughed, but instantly knew that was the wrong thing to do, as you were already anxious, “Hot, shirtless babe in front of me?” he softened his tone. You cracked a small smile, cheeks gaining some color. He grinned at your physical response; Anything he could say or do to make you smile, he was going to try.

“C’mon, sugar tits. Stand up for me” he asked. And you did. He didn’t need to fumble with anything crazy, you were only wearing sweatpants and underwear. He pulled down your pants and you held onto his shoulders for balance as he guided them from your legs. He bit his lip, trying not to laugh at your choice of underwear. “Spit it out, Mare” you shook your head at him, knowing exactly what he’s laughing at. “Fuck, I can’t hold it in anymore” he laughed, “I just… I really dig your undies” he clicked his tongue and winked at you.

You were depressed. Picking out the style of underwear to resume your daily activities of self-loathing and sleeping was the furthest thing from your mind. So, you grabbed any old pair. But of course, Mary Goore had to see you standing there in your Shrek underwear. “Listen… it was a gag gift. They’re comfy. Shut up” another smile crept on your mouth. “They’re just really fuckin’ shrektacular” he continued to laugh. You smacked his arm, accidently revealing yourself, “Just for that, I’m telling everyone at the bar that you made a Shrek pun. Your reputation will be all ogre now” you giggled as he grimaced at you.

You pushed him out of the bathroom as he laughed, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… I’ve got it from here, now” you said. You took off your underwear and slowly got into the shower. The feeling was an absolute rush. It had been a little more than a week since your last shower. Which may not be a long time for some, but it was for you. Your hair was extremely greasy and was starting to develop matts, your face had a few breakouts, and your body just felt stale. You appreciated Mary’s help to get you to this point.

As you took your time in the shower, Mary got to work. He was used to shitholes; Dusty train cars, muddy cemeteries, and piss ridden pubs. But he knew that this wasn’t your style. He went down to your kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for a garbage bag. He returned to your room, collecting any and all trash he had seen. He had to stop himself once or twice from throwing away a hideously cringe stuffed animal or two. He collected the garbage and threw it out in the can next to your house.

Next stop was all of your clothes. Jesus, fuck, you had so many clothes it made him sick. Mary had a simplicity to him, that you definitely envied. He always wore the same three things: His ripped skinny jeans, leather jacket, and one of probably many, band t-shirts. He picked up all of the ones on the floor and shoved them into a bin in the corner of your room. At least the floor could be walked on, without stepping on your belongings.

He rummaged through your drawers for some fresh clothes for you. He made a mental note to get you more band tees because your wardrobe was seriously lacking. He found a pair of comfy shorts, a shirt, and some underwear. He may have taken a longer detour in your underwear drawer, noticing some interesting toys he could tease you about, later.

He crept towards the bathroom and opened the door, setting them down on the toilet seat. You heard him enter and peeked your head out from the shower curtain, “Thank you, Mare” you smiled, water dripping down your face. His cheeks blushed and jaw tightened at your smile. Your eyes moved to the clothes he set down, eyes going big at your underwear, “You didn’t… uh… see, -erm” you tried to ask. He winked at you, refusing to answer your question, “Hurry up, sweet cheeks. I’m starving. I’ll get us some food” he teased, your cheeks going red.

He plopped down on your bed, grabbing the remote to flip through some channels on your tv. You heard him from the bathroom yelling at your tv. Every ad that popped up, the angrier he got. You couldn’t help but laugh. It was nice to laugh again, you thought. And it also felt nice to be clean. You found some extra energy to put on deodorant, brush your teeth, and some of your favorite perfume. You put on the clothes Mary had picked out and headed back to your room.

You were shocked; Your entire room was clean! You began to tear up again, unable to express your appreciation to Mary. He was so preoccupied with banging the remote to get it to work, he hadn’t noticed you returned right away. You looked at him on your bed and you smiled to yourself. You walked towards him, laying down next to you.

He was uneasy at first, but you didn’t really give him a choice to leave. You got under the covers, wrapped an arm around Mary, and snuggled your face into his chest. His body was stiff, unsure of how to react. But once you settled in, he did, too. His arm draped over your frame, while his other held tight to the remote. He broke the silence, “I’m fucking starving. I raided your fridge, nothings really hittin’ the spot… But I’ve been thinkin’; Let’s call in some pizza, huh, babe?”.

You blushed at his pet name. He said them all the time, from the moment you both met. You’ve noticed he said them to anyone and everyone, too. It was just one of the many quirks of Mary Goore; An idiosyncrasy, at this point. But you had noticed over the course of the last month or so, his tone was beginning to change with each time he called you one.

You sheepishly nodded your head yes, looking up at him with big eyes. Fuck, his heart broke. He decided then and there he was going to become an unwanted guest at any and all hours of the days ahead. He knew you long enough to know that you actually liked his company; A fact he still has trouble wrapping his mind around. But seeing you like this? Broken and alone? It made him mad. Mad because beautiful people like you shouldn’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders. You are smart, funny, absolutely adorable at times. He was angry because people like you shouldn’t suffer; Life should punish people like him… people like Mary. Leave the innocent alone, he thought.

He didn’t want to prod on what exactly your deal was. He respected that if you were ready, you would’ve told him. But he could tell that whatever this was, you’d been dealing with it for a while; Bottling up every emotion, every memory, every self-criticism. And alas… you couldn’t handle it anymore. Shit, he should’ve reached out sooner, he thought.

He motioned for your phone. You grabbed it from the nightstand and handed it to him. The man’s eyes squinted, trying to comprehend the technology. You whispered hints and instructions to him on how to operate the phone, but he quickly moved a finger to your lips ‘shushing’ them. Your eyes go wide with surprise.

Did Mary Goore just shush me? you thought. “Did you just-“ shushed again. You gave him an angry smile, absolutely confused with his audacity. “What the fuck, Goore. Are you five-“ he shushed you again. “HEY!” you shouted at him, giggling. He threw his whole hand over your mouth and clasped it tight. “I told you…” he threw the phone to the side and used his other hand to tickle you, “to shut that pretty fucking mouth of yours” he said with a devilish grin, relishing in your laugh.

He was relentlessly tickling you, smiling with each laugh you belted out. You started to slap him, trying to get him to stop; The both of you laughing. You quickly licked the palm of his hand, in order for him to release your mouth. He yelled, “EW! Who’s mature now? Licking my hand?”. He laughed, wiping your drool on your face. He then took his fingers and squashed your cheeks together, making your pout into a fishy face.

“Fuck, you make me wanna kiss you” he let out, biting his lip. His eyes were staring into yours, a feeling you hadn’t seen from him before. His eyes darkened; His breathing was heavier. But he didn’t act on it. Instead, he backed away, seemingly with a little regret. His cheeks blushed; He’d never crossed that line with you before. Fuck, fuck, fuck… he was supposed to be comforting you. Not making you uncomfortable.

Your eyes met him with the same wideness. Your cheeks plagued with the same shade of pink. “What-didge-ya-say?” you attempted to say from your fish lips. “Uhhh, pizza. Let’s get pizza” he nervously replied, avoiding eye contact now. You’d never seen Mary like this before. You could tell he let his soft side out and was embarrassed. But you admit, you’ve always wanted to kiss him. Glad to know he was thinking the same thing.

He released your cheeks and went back to your phone. Your fingers twiddled with the blankets, finding the courage to ask this question. “Hey, Mare?” you muttered. He looked down at you from the phone and furrowed his eyebrows, waiting for whatever you were going to say. “Can you-erm… stay? Maybe? Tonight?” You finally got out, “I just really don’t want to be alone anymore… you’ve helped tonight, really and I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier” you moved your hand to his and gave it a small squeeze.

He swallowed hard, “That’s not the first time I’ve been yelled at, sugar. You’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot worse to scare me off” he grinned, “And yeah… Ask and you shall receive. But you’re so gonna wish you didn’t” he winked at you with a shit eating grin. Your smile at his words tugged at Scary Mary Goore’s heart. But he was trying not to let it show. After all, the man had a reputation to uphold. 

A few moments passed, “Okay pretty lady, pizza will be here in 25 minutes. That’s plenty of time for you to pick a movie out. And please, for the love of all that is unholy and fucked up in this world… None of that fluffy foo foo shit, okay, doll? We still need to have some standards” he grumped, crinkly up his nose and expressing his disgust with his eyes. All you could do was laugh at his hoity toity ass.

You stuck your tongue out at him, “Hmm… How about… Grumpy Old Men for a certain Grumpy Old Man” you joked, teasing his hair. He pushed your hand away, “Pfft… jokes on you. That grumpy old dude ends up with a total babe… hit play!” he eyed you with a wink, “But the next movie, I get to pick!”. 

The rest of the night was perfect. Listening to Mary give unsolicited criticism of each and every film you watched together may have been exhausting, but your soul was in dire need of this. It had been so long. So many days of waking up, maybe eating, and slumping back into bed. You’re glad someone noticed enough to help you out of the cycle you were terrified to go through again. He didn’t know this information, but from the way Mary had been acting all night, you could only assume he’s been through the same.

The pizza came and gone. Popcorn was made and eaten. Cans of pop littered the room. You both spent hours giggling and laughing, cuddling up on the bed. Sometime during the fourth movie, Mary noticed you fell asleep. He didn’t mind the drool puddle you were leaving him on his chest. God, why are you so fucking cute? he thought. He wasn’t going to tell you that. Despite your depressive state, he had fun tonight. Maybe seeing you so raw and open and with your guard down, that made it easier for him to open up, too. Let his soft side show.

Sure, he had developed a little crush on you. How couldn’t he? Hot babe going around cemeteries, talking about life with the headstones… Plus, you were fine with him shoving new music down your throat. Every now and then he would gift you a new vinyl for your collection. It had been a while since he had a living, breathing friend. Keeping your depression in mind, Mary is going to make sure you stay his living, breathing friend.

He'd never admit it, but he had been dead a long time. Figuratively speaking, of course. But seeing you roam through the graveyard… it did something to him. Bickering amongst the tombstones awoken his mischievousness. Having someone be so interested in his likes and dislikes made him feel wanted. He didn’t realize how lonesome his existence had been, until he met you. Seeing you this broken, only made him feel more at home in your presence. He was broken, too. Hell, he’d curl up and die with you, any day of the week.

He realized he had been staring at you, lost in thought. He brushed a hair away from your face and you nuzzled into him further, instinctively. He was afraid he had woken you up, but you kept fast asleep. He smirked but began to feel a little uneasy. You looked so pure and beautiful. Almost like the cold corpse of Snow White. Did he deserve something this poetic? Someone this authentic? Mary was otherworldly, at times. Even to himself; A heinously complicated and stubborn creature. He grimaced at his inner dialogue, knowing he needed to pull himself away from your warmth soon.

Chapter Text

It was cold. You had been used to a mass of man next to you the whole night, keeping you warm. But somewhere along the moonlit hours, he had left. No note. No explanation. He was free to go whenever. There was no obligation to comfort you any longer. Hell, there wasn’t one to begin with, but Mary made damn sure that he was going to. It just felt weird that he would leave like that. Stowing away into the night after all he did for you. Maybe that was just him.

You had to return to work and, eventually, life went back to normal. You were still in a slump for a few days but getting back to the grind and getting your mind back onto other things felt good. But sooner or later, the loneliness crept back in. You were hoping Mary would’ve returned to your house, to at least check on you.

And he in time did. But it wasn’t what you were expecting. It was a rainy night. Practically terrifying outside. You were half expecting a zombie apocalypse to rise up and take over. Didn’t help that you were also watching a marathon of horror movies and the banging on your door nearly made you shit your pants.

After you collected yourself from launching down onto the ground from fright, you checked the peephole in your door; It was Mary. You laughed at yourself from your weak nerves and opened the door, “Mary! What the fuck are doing out in this weather…?” you asked. He pushed past you, waltzed into your home, and replied, “Need to piss”. He didn’t care that he tracked mud through along the floors, but you did.

“Uhm, hello? MUD! SHOES!” you shouted after him as he made his way to your bathroom. All he could be bothered with was a middle finger pointed in your direction. You rolled your eyes, shutting the door to prevent rain from spraying in. You curled back up in your spot on the couch and wrapped up in your blanket, pressing play. Who knows how long he’d be in there?

After a few minutes, he sauntered down the stairs. He shrugged off his leather jacket, leaving it on the railing. He plopped right next to you on the couch, using his feet to push his boots off, letting them ‘thump’ on the ground. He was wet. He smelled like a bar. You had a small look of disgust, watching him make himself right at home, but brushed it off. It had been weeks since you had seen him or even talked to him. You missed him.

You both sat in silence as the movie played. It was one of his favorites, if you had remembered. Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The original. He saw you from the corner of his eyes, shielding your gaze from the screen with your blanket. “Shit, really? You can’t handle THIS?” he scoffed at you, grinning. “Listen. It’s storming outside. I live ALONE,” you dramatically rolled your eyes at him, “I get scared!”.

He shook his head, biting his bottom lip, “I’m here now,” he winked at you, “But that should scare you more”. His eyes darkened and your gut twists. He closed in, raising his hands up into claws and POUNCED. You squealed as his fingers dug into your sides, causing you to writhe underneath his weight. He snarled, snapping at your neck.

He loved your giggling. But he wasn’t going to admit that. He learned from last time that opening up may have been the wrong decision. He couldn’t get close to you. Well, he wouldn’t. He knew there would be disappointment in the end, like there always was. Never on his end. He was always the reason. He stopped tickling you and you both stared at each other.

“I mis- uh,” you mumbled breathlessly, “Where have you been?”. His green eyes, still dark, were unwavering. You noticed his jaw clench, his teeth gritting. He moved away from you, sitting back in his relaxed position. “Around,” was all the information you were going to receive. He put an attitude with it, as well.

He stood up, suddenly, going straight to your kitchen, “Got any beer?” he asked. You scoffed. You felt blown off and unheard. Yes, he helped you when you were at a low point. Yes, he had been a fun friend to have around. But then he didn’t stop by for weeks and just barges in? Unannounced? Making a mess and raiding your fridge?

You stood up from your nest, following him in the kitchen. “You smell like you just came back from the bar,” you questioned him, “Why did you even come here? For beer? To use my bathroom?”. You leaned against the door frame to the kitchen, arms crossed. He scoffed at you, eyebrows wrinkling, “I certainly didn’t come to get the third degree. I’ve been fuckin’ busy, sugartits”. He closed the fridge door, unamused with it’s contents, “End of fucking story”.

“There’s no third-degree, Mary. I just miss you, that’s all,” you shrugged, deciding to say the ‘m’ word. The air thickened with more tension. And not in a good way. He laughed at your admission, “Missed me? That’s cute,” he went to put his boots back on. “Wait, are you leaving?” you followed him, “I haven’t seen you in weeks and you stopped by for a quick piss and beer? Is that it? Not even to say ‘hi’ or hangout? Or to even check on me? You left without saying ‘goodbye’. I just-”.

You heart began to ache. He was your friend. At least you thought he was after that special night. He laughed again, “Fuckkk, don’t get all clingy. You wanna be friends? Whelp, this is it, sweetheart. This is me. Take it or leave it,” he hiccupped, obviously still tipsy from the bar. You grimaced, again. He tied his boots and stood up, stabling himself.

“You don’t have to leave, you know… You could stay? I can order us something?” you pleaded, automatically regretting it. You didn’t want to come off as ‘needy’. And you knew only asking for him to stay would make him leave quicker. You shriveled up, your (almost non-existent) confidence fading away.

“Fuck, would you just leave it? See? I knew this would happen,” he scoffed at you, heading to the door. You had tears in your eyes from embarrassment, but a heat was radiating, “Knew what would happen?” you blocked him from leaving. He groaned, “Just because I took care of you, doesn’t mean shit”. You could see it in his eyes that he didn’t mean what he said. He winced as tears ran down your cheeks with his words.

Fuck, he didn’t know why he had ignored you. Well, in a way he did. He was obviously scared of commitment. Being in a vulnerable position with someone terrified him. But why did he come back? He definitely needed to piss, that much is true. But he missed you, too. Mary doesn’t know how to communicate. Whether he is sober or not, if you push him, his venom will come out. It’s one of the things he hated most about himself.

You shriveled at his words. Being rejected was never a good feeling. Especially if it was rejection on the lowest, yet most important, level of any relationship: Just being friends. He really was Big Bad Bill; The feral alley cat that makes it’s way into your home just to eat you out of food and warmth. You had hoped he was more like Sweet William. He’d shown so much kindness and empathy towards you… you just couldn’t buy the schtick he was selling.

You sucked in your tears, bit your lip, and got out of his way. “You wanna leave?” you said in a low voice, walking up to him, “Go”. You pressed your hands on his chest and gave him a push, as you stared at him, dead in his eyes. His eyebrows quivered; His lip snarled. He growled past you, marching towards the door, “Like anyone would miss you”. He left with the slamming of the wood and a pit of regret in his stomach.

---

You gave yourself a couple of days to grieve that friendship. Whelp, you were back to square one it seems. Loneliness was done creeping in. It sprinted. The second Mary stormed out the other night, you realized he had left his precious jacket. You thought about throwing it away. Maybe giving it to a second-hand store. You wanted his energy to be gone. But you just… couldn’t.

A part of you still wanted to believe that Scary Mary was a façade; He has issues like everyone else. Maybe he actually did miss you. Maybe his outburst was just a drunken call for help. But help with what? You knew he didn’t have a lot of friends. Probably no safe haven; That’s why he creeps around in cemeteries and pees at your house. I mean, you were naked in front of him and he never tried anything. He respected you. He was a decent guy.

Fuckkk, you thought, am I really going to do this? You gathered up his jacket, got yourself dolled up (For confidence reasons) and decided to head down to the gritty bar he always goes to and, on occasion, dragged you there with him. You clung to the jacket, like it was granting you the power of bravery. You stuck out like a sore thumb, and it was late… very late.

You tried not to let some creeps eyeing you up, freak you out. You immediately made way to the bartender. “Uhm, hi… have you seen Mary today?” you asked him. He looked you up and down and then noticed the jacket you were clutching onto. “That his jacket? I knew he looked different,” he laughed, “Yeah, girly, he was in here. But you just missed him. Got into a scrape, so I had to throw his ass out. He knows the rules”.

You tried not to look defeated. After all, you came down here looking like a babe, wanting to show him what he’s been missing (Like the crazy person you are. I mean, hello?? You guys couldn’t even get to the friendzone safely). You thanked the bartender and left, leaving discreetly so none of the creeps would follow.

You sighed, exiting the bar. The only other place you could think to look was the cemetery. Maybe after he was thrown out, he decided to take a moonlight stroll through the headstones? It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. So you made your way.

The air was chilly, yet calm. The moon shined bright above you, guiding you safely to your destination. You missed coming here. It’s always so peaceful; To be amongst the dead. It was comforting, in a way. You plopped down at your favorite spot, pulled out your phone and decided to text Mary. This cemetery was big, and you didn’t want to peruse around all night. “Where are you at?” you typed out. In the still of the night, you heard a ‘ping’. Didn’t come from your phone. Must mean Mary is close.

You stood up from your spot and followed the direction you head the sound come from. You were internally freaking out. You felt like such an idiot getting dressed up (Listen, you only mildly put in some effort. But still! Effort!) and if he is drunk, which the bartender made it seem, then you knew Mary was going to be impossible to deal with.

But soon, he came into view. He was leaned up against a grave, taking one last swig of a bottle before chucking it at the mausoleum nearby. You were startled with the breaking of the glass. You crept closer, making yourself known, “You left this at my-“ you started. But he yelped in surprise, “FUCK… why the? Where the? Wha-“ he was confused as anything.

You gave a half smile, “Sorry… I, erm… You left this at my house. And I checked out the bar to give it back to you, but that guy said that you were thrown out” you circled around him, now getting a good look at his face. He was covered in scrapes and bruises. Your eyebrows immediately furrowed, and you knelt beside him.

“Fuck, dude, what happened?” you dropped his jacket and your purse to the ground. You rummaged through your things for tissues to sop up the scrapes and cuts. He grimaced at you, trying not to look you in the eyes. His hands clung to yours, then casted them away. He didn’t want you to touch him.

“Like you care? Huh? Leave me alone,” his eyes still avoiding your gaze. You were all for respecting someone’s personal space, but you couldn’t leave Mary like this; Cold (his hands were freezing), alone, bleeding, and a little drunk. “Would you STOP being a pain in the ass and let me help you?” you grabbed onto his wrists, mid flailing, and yelled. His eyes finally looked at yours. There was pain.

Blood dripped from his hairline and slowly fell down his cheek. All you could do was stare at him. Even in his pain, he was still beautiful. In fact, seeing the soft Mary weeks before and seeing pained Mary now… it made him more beautiful. You were lost in his green eyes, but his voice brought you back. “The fuck you lookin’ at, cupcake?” he snarled, “Scary Mary finally getting’ to ya?”.

“You know you actually have to be scary to be called Scary Mary,” you released his wrists and reached down for a tissue from your bag, “You should probably call yourself Moody Mary… Yepp… That has a better ring to it” you snickered. His eyes softened a bit, taken back by your humor to diffuse the tension. You blotted the blood dripping from his hair, down onto his face. He grimaced when you wet the tissue with your spit to get the dried blood out. But deep down, he liked it. He liked being taken care of. Especially by you.

Fuck, there’s that sappy shit again, he thought. He tried his best to scare you away. He showed you the ole razzle dazzle of Mary Goore; Being a complete jackass at the worse time and always choosing to say the wrong things. He tried to push you away. But, alas, here you were.

He looked away from you, his stomach filling up with more regret over how he had been treating you the past few weeks. He felt guilty and pained. He convinced himself that you didn’t deserve a stray cat, like him. Not even as a friend. He was happy you were alive. And he, unbeknownst to you, had been checking on you throughout the weeks. He would pop in at 3 a.m. and climb up to your window. He made sure you were still kicking, then left.

He didn’t know how to pick up where he left you. He could still smell your hair products every now and then. He could still feel the softness of your skin. And he could still see those tears running down your face when he left you with those awful words.

Tears ran down his eyes. He made no noise. But his jaw clenched, and his cheeks blushed. He swatted your hand away, once more, in a defeated fashion. “Please… just leave me… I deserve to be alone…” he confessed, tears still rolling, now mixing with the blood. Your lip quivered; You couldn’t believe he was crying. All you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and hold him. But you were sure, as of right now, if you attempted that, Mary would push you to the ground.

You gave him a minute of silence. You still knelt beside him, hands clinging to his jacket. You whispered, “But I miss you”. He scoffed, wiping his snotty nose on the back of his hand, “Like anyone would miss me”. And there it was. He hadn’t said those horrible things to YOU. But he was actually saying them to himself. Classic projection.

Tears rolled silently down your cheeks, as well. You couldn’t help it. He was your friend. Your friend in pain. You lept up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a warm (and forced) embrace. Mary’s face warped with confusion, grimacing at your touch. He didn’t deserve this, why are you being so nice to him? He thought.

You didn’t care that you were getting blood on you. You didn’t care that his tears were staining your dress. Or even his snot. “Can you fucking not?” he cried out. You held him tighter. “Just… just… leave me alone?” he pleaded, cries becoming more intense. You started to cradle his head, fingertips caressing his hair. “Fuck,” he started to shake and sob, melting into your warmth, and letting his emotions finally get the best of him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was consoled. But he felt like a little boy. His hands bunched up the fabric on your dress, his face buried itself into the crook of your neck, and he let you rock him.

You whispered to him, encouraging words and sweet nothings. “Mary doesn’t need to be scary, huh?” you played with his hair more, “Mary needs a long, hot bath. Maybe some pizza?” he looked up at you with heavy lashes, “How about a sleepover with a friend?” you suggested. His cheeks blushed, hands loosening up on the fabric of your gown. He meekly shook his head ‘yes’.

You patted his back for release, and he did. You stood up slowly and held out a hand. He looked up at you from the ground, embarrassed from his emotional outburst. But your kindness showed him that he didn’t need to be. He slowly took your hand and you pulled him up. “You’re heavier than you look, beanpole” you joked. He scoffed at you.

“Listen here,” he sniffled, “This little ‘thing’ stays between us and the dead, alright?” You smiled at him, giving him a wink, “Of course,” you taunted, “You still have a reputation to uphold”. He squinted his eyes in mocking way, teasing you back. You handed him his jacket and he went to put it on. But he stopped, looked at you, and decided to drape it around your shoulders.

“Thanks for, erm, keeping my jacket safe,” you both walked through the headstones, making your way towards your house. Your cheeks turned rosy with his words, “Of course… That’s what friends are for” you said the ‘f’ word again. He smirked, “Listen. I think our little heart-to-heart was next level shit. Huh, babe? We’re like best friends now,” he poked your sides, teasing you, “And best friends totally take bubble baths together”.

You laughed and punched him in the arm, he jokingly cradled it, as if it was broken. “Hey! What was that for? I’m sensitive today,” he giggled, still sniffling. “THAT was for leaving a big muddy mess for me to clean up in my house!” you retaliated. He shrugged, “Fair enough”.

You turned around on him, swiftly, and pointed a finger to his chest, “Listen up, Scary Mary. Don’t be a jackass and leave without saying goodbye again. Got it?”. His eyes got big. You were waiting for him to make a joke, but his gaze remained serious. “Aye, aye, captain” his voice hung low. You held out a pinky and waited for him to take it. “Pinky swear? Really? Are we five-“ you cut him off, “Do you want our bubble bath or not?” you grinned. Mary never made a pinky swear faster in his life.

Mary turned around, as non-chalantly as he could, and his eyes pierced through the gravesite you had cradled him at. He looked back at you and let out a sigh of relief. He was sure you didn't notice. There's no way you would have noticed. Mary's back had covered it up the whole time. He smiled at the sight of you; His old leather jacket sitting on top of your shoulders. And your cute dress, he thought. He was so glad you hadn't noticed the epitaph engraved into the old granite stone.

For it read, HERE LIES MARY GOORE.

Chapter Text

It was nice to have Mary on your side, again. You felt like you got to see a glimpse into who he truly was that night in the graveyard. But since then, he felt a little less reserved, but still withholding. He came around more often, which was great. You loved his company. But that asshole still ate and drank you out of house and home. Oh well, you thought.

The weather was getting cooler, and the seasons were changing into your favorite one: Spooky. The local grocery stores and roadside stands were officially filling up with pumpkins and gourds of various shapes and sizes. One day, after work, you stopped at one of these spots and dropped some coinage.

You’d been in another slump. Some stress at work had caused your brain to fry. But when you saw those pumpkins, you decided to treat yourself. You didn’t care if they didn’t last till Halloween. You needed some spoopy shit in your life to cheer you up. You grabbed two large orange ones, a couple small yellow ones, and some lumpy bumpy gourds. One which looked very phallic and made your 12-year-old boy humor get a kick.

Buying some cider and caramel apples, you decided to have yourself a movie marathon and carve some pumpkins. You felt the stress melting off of you already and couldn’t wait to get home.

When you finished unloading your groceries, you immediately got comfy. Changing into a long, oversized sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. You set out blankets, lit some candles, put out the snacks and started to flip through various movie apps. Hocus Pocus it is, you finally settled on a choice.

You dove face first into a caramel apple. Getting it’s stickiness all over your face. You pulled out your phone, taking a selfie and decided to send it to Mary. Trick or Treat, you texted. You thought you looked cute and it could entice your small-time crush to make an appearance. He rarely texts back. He either ignores your texts for a few days or shows up randomly. You were hoping for the latter.

Your phone buzzed a moment later. Depends… You being naughty or nice?, he texted back. But this time, he sent a selfie in return; Cigarette hanging out of his mouth, eyebrows scrunched. Looked like a streetlamp was in the background. You rolled your eyes at the text, but your heart skipped a beat at the photo. He was getting better at technology, you thought. Wrong Holiday lol, you answered.

There was nothing back, but that was okay. You got lost in the movie and were wholly focused on the caramel apple. But about 10 minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You couldn’t help but smile, hoping that it was Mary. And alas, your intuition was right.

You opened the door to see a puff of smoke blow in your face. Coughing, you slammed the door shut. “EW, GROSS,” you yelled at him, “RUDE ASS”. You heard his foot stomp and twist the ground outside, assuming he stomped out his cigarette. “Okay, okay. Lemme try again,” he said from the other side of the door.

There was a knock to a familiar tune and you slowly creaked open the door, staring daggers at his face. Cigarette was definitely put out, so you opened the door more. “Trick or treat!” he beamed, oozing sarcasm. You held open the door with one arm and balled up your fist with a little attitude on your hip, “Here’s a little something for you,” you held up a middle finger, “Trick this time, sorry!” you started to giggle.

Mary took in your form, furrowing his eyebrows and giving you that devilish grin. A signature preset to his face. You looked positively adorable. Messy hair. That old hoodie you love a little too much. No pants? Hm… interesting, he thought. And some tacky fuzzy socks. They were comfortable. As he has most definitely stolen a pair from you.

He giggled in response to your middle finger. But what he did next surprised you. He rushed forward, grabbing you and hoisting you up over his shoulder. His arm stretched across the back of your thighs, holding you tight. His black boot kicked the door closed as he marched into your house with you. “You better be fucking grateful I don’t have any toilet paper to T.P. your house,” he swayed, a bit, making you laugh.

“Now,” he sighed, “You’re giving me a treat”. He started to walk further into the living room, making his way towards the kitchen. You pounded against his back, pleading for him to let you down. You were a little worried that your ass was directly next to his face, but if he didn’t care, you didn’t.

His free hand started to tickle your feet, making you writhe against him even harder, “Start talkin’, sugartits, or I’m gonna go out and buy toilet paper,” he tickled you some more. He loved making you laugh. Torturing you, as well. Ever since that night in the cemetery, it was true. He had opened up to you more. In fact, he really loved your company. You were susceptible to new music. He loved watching you close your eyes to the gruesome bits in horror movies. But most of all, you saw him at one of his low points, you heard his inner dialogue, and you didn’t run away. It was only a matter of time until she finds out, though, he thought.

His free hand moved to your butt, giving it a light smack, as he set you back down. You looked up at him, cheeks blushed. Most of it from the blood rushing to your head, some of it from Mary. You squinted your eyes at him and he squinted back. “Fine… help yourself,” you used jazz hands to show off your pile of caramel apples, mug of cider, and blanket fort.

He started to walk towards the coziness, but your hand stopped on his chest, “Shoes, first,” you commanded. And he listened, for once with no back sass. Mary flung off his boots and dove into the couch, taking up the entire length. He really was a tall, lanky metalhead. He curled himself up into most of the blankets, grabbed a caramel apple with his entire hand, and went to town.

You stared at the sight before you. Aw, he’s starting to become an indoor cat, you thought.  You curled up in your spot between the couch and coffee table, on the ground. You grabbed the blanket beneath you and cocooned yourself, reaching out every now and then to take a bite of your second (maybe third, you lost count) caramel apple.

The next hour or so, you and Mary both watched Hocus Pocus in silence. Mary had never been this quiet, especially during a silly Halloween movie. You had to turn around a few times to make sure he wasn’t asleep. And each time you did, Mary stuck his tongue out at you.

When the movie ended, Mary had a suggestion. “Pumpkin carving contest, ok? Loser has to march naked through the cemetery,” he grinned. You rolled your eyes at the suggestion, but you had quite a few years of experience of carving pumpkins. You didn’t use those cheap kits at the grocery store; You surpassed that level.

“You’re on, Goore,” you grinned right back, sticking out your hand for him to shake on it. His eyes darkened and he raised an eyebrow. “Awfully confident, huh, sugartits? I’ll have you know I was born on Halloween. This shit practically runs through my veins,” he said, cockily, flexing his arms. Your eyes went big and he immediately knew he confessed a detail about himself he didn’t mean to.

“YOU’RE WHAT?” you asked, beaming with excitement. “NOTHING,” he tried to play it off. You stood up on the couch, now jumping on it, “MARILYN. ELIZABETH. GOORE,” you shouted, “I AM GOING TO THROW YOU THE BEST BIRTHDAY PARTY NOW, YOU HAVE NO IDEA!” you giggled as you jumped. Mary just rolled his eyes, cheeks blushing a bit.

“Okay, first of fucking all… NOT my name. Not even my middle name,” he pouted playfully, “Secondly, no. N. O.” he spelled it out for you. But you didn’t care. Even if he avoided your house like the plague, you were going to go on a manhunt for Scary Mary to give him a birthday present. “Now, are we going to carve some fucking pumpkins or am I gonna have to leave?” he rolled his eyes, stomping to the front door, acting like he would actually leave.

On the last jump, you pulled your legs in and landed square on your butt, bouncing on the cushion. “Okay, I’ll be good. Let’s get the knives,” you said with an evil laugh. Mary gave you a strange look as he laughed, “Ooookay… No more sugar for you, sugartits”. You were definitely having a sugar rush.

---

You tried your best to make a creepy jack-o-lantern. When you turned to show Mary your creation, you were utterly confused at his. “Uh… A circle? Are you going to do more? Like polka dots? I’m not gonna lie, Goore, I expected more from you,” you scrunched your eyebrows in a funny disappointed look, “Mister ‘Halloween runs through my veins’ Goore.”

“Ha, ha. You’re so funny,” he mocked back, “This is actually a new invention of mine. Not only is it festive, but it’s also completely portable and useable”. You shook your head ‘yes’ waiting for Mary to shut up and just tell you what he did to this poor pumpkin. “Ladies and gentlemen. Ghouls and gals. May I present the ‘Jack-Off Lantern’. This perfectly sized ‘glory hole’ gives you easy access to fuck the raw, stringy guts of our pumpkin buddy, here.”

You about died laughing. You were crying, completely mortified that this poor pumpkin was being subjected to Mary’s craziness. Mary’s hands kept tickling you, demanding you to be quiet for him to finish his presentation, “Will you let me finish this? Huh? Or do I need to show you how it works?” he stood up from the ground, leaving you laughing. You scrambled on your knees, holding onto his leg as he walked over to the pumpkin.

He was dragging you across the ground of your living room floor, “Please, for the love of everything Halloween, DO NOT FUCK THE PUMPKIN, GOORE”. You couldn’t tell, but he was laughing, too. “NUH, UH. Too late, sugartits. This pumpkin is getting fucked,” he jokingly took off his belt, throwing it to the ground. “NOOO, MY PUMPKIN. MY BOY,” you were mourning it, playfully. This was like a scene straight out of some Shakespearean play. Where’s your Oscar?

Mary started to undo the buttons on his pants, slowly zipping his fly down, as he annoyingly narrated every single one of his actions. “HERE I GO. GONNA… I’M GONNA DO THIS. GONNA GET MY DICK OUT,” he started to laugh at your wheezing. He had never seen you laugh this hard in his life. And man, oh, man was it contagious. He hasn’t even laughed this hard.

He grabbed some of the pumpkin guts that were laying in a bowl on the table and walked over to where you let go off his foot. You were still laughing, gasping for air, “Please don’t make me laugh anymore, I’m gonna- I’m gonna piss myself,” you cackled out. He dropped down, settling himself in between your legs, “I NEED HELP. I’VE GOT PUMPKIN SPLOOGE ALL OVER ME,” he held out his hand, seeds and guts covering his fingers.

“WHOOPS,” he wiped his gooey mess all over your face and neck making you cry out in grossness. “NOT MY SWEATSHIRT,” you cried, swatting away at the guts. You wiped the mess away, opening your eyes to see Mary’s face directly over yours, smiling like you had never seen him smile before. You unintentionally bit your lip, as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

He wet his pout, as he settled a little further in between your legs. It felt comfortable for the both of you; Him being bridged above you, you being snug beneath him. But you both couldn’t make a move. When you realized your bare legs were around him, he unintentionally leaned forward, brushing himself against you.

Mary jumped back, leaning up to the rub the back of his neck, awkwardly. He didn’t even care that he still had pumpkin guts on his hand. “I think it’s, erm,” he avoided eye contact as he stood up, “I gotta split.” Your smiled faded quickly, eyebrows confused. “Oh,” you couldn’t help sounding disappointed, “Okay.”

He slid on his boots and put his jacket back on. “Till we meet again,” he said, grabbing the door handle. You looked at his pumpkin and back at him, “Didn’t you want your Pumpk-” you tried to ask, but the door slammed shut.

“Moody Mary,” you said, as you army crawled back to the table for another caramel apple, unsure of what you said or did to make him flip again.

Chapter Text

The last month had been better. Mary was still just as moody as ever, but he stopped trying to scare you away at every corner. Your mental health struggles had even simmered down. Work was going alright. The weather was gently fading into autumn. And you were positive that this year, fall would actually last more than a week.

Mary had been a regular house guest, hanging out at least a couple times a week. There’d be movie nights… always horror. But sometimes you would trick him into playing a rom com or two. You’d meet up in the cemeteries for midnight strolls. And not to mention, the light flirting. Okay, so you were head over heels with the lurker, alright? And you were pretty sure he was falling for you, too.

“What do you want photos for, huh?” he asked, critiquing every inch of your new polaroid. “Well, dummy,” you snatched it back from him, “I’m feeling good. I’m feeling good… about myself. The way I look. So why not document that?” your eyes shied away at your response. He pulled a cigarette from the carton that lived in his leather jacket and lit it, “Fair enough. C’mon then. Smile for the camera”.

He winked as you tossed it back to him. “Don’t say anything mean, alright? I’ve been working up the courage to wear this shit for weeks now,” you jested as you breathed in courage to drop your heavier coat to the mossy graveyard ground. His eyes just stared at you. No words. Just a long (actually, very long) drag on his cigarette. An owl hooted in the adjacent tree. Crickets chirped. But still, no response from Mary, who was still standing statuesque, just staring.

You stood there awkwardly, “Okay. Well, if I look so bad that you can’t even fucking speak, I guess,” you grabbed the coat on the ground to quickly cover up. Tears started to form in your eyes, “I guess I’ll just-” Mary quickly stumbled over to stop you, “No, no, no… You look… Damn,” his hand grabbed your wrist,  “You took my breath away, sugartits. I think you broke my brain”. He started to laugh, which got you feeling more comfortable again.

“Shut up,” you hit him in the chest, “Just take some photos. If they’re bad, don’t use them at my funeral, okay?” you stuck out a pinky for him to promise. He rolled his eyes, taking another puff, “If they’re good, I’m gonna need one… for science, okay?” he scrunched his nose back, mocking you a bit. He stuck out his pinky and a deal was made.

You threw your jacket at the ground near Mary. You awkwardly stood by an old oak tree, the red and orange foliage decorating the ground. You and Mary had even decorated some of the graves in this part of the cemetery. It was your guys’ favorite spot to hangout.

You stood awkwardly next to the big tree. “Well? Aren’t you gonna pose or something?” Mary asked. You’d never had a photoshoot done. You hated having pictures taken of yourself for so many years now, you actually forgot how to act in front of a camera. “Like this?” you asked, putting a hand on your hip.

He shook his head no, set the camera down, and walked over to you. “May I?” he asked, blushing a bit. You nodded, unsure of what he was asking. The last bit of his cigarette was stuck to his lip as his hands were placed on your waist. He maneuvered you around like his own personal barbie doll. He fiddled with your fishnet legs and those sexy boots you had on. He unbuttoned most of your flannel, letting the cool air touch your skin. He tugged on the straps of your skintight slip, a little here and a little there. He then moved his hands to your face. Positioning your chin at the perfect angle and fiddling with your hair some more.

His eyes stopped to look at yours, “Perfect. Now DON’T move,” he winked and rushed back to the camera. You knew you were blushing insanely hard right now and were thankful that it was getting dark. So maybe he didn’t notice? He did. And he thought it was cute. But he wasn’t going to tell you that. Just like he was hoping you didn’t notice the slight hard-on he was rocking.

He grounded out the ash of his cigarette on the tombstone next to him and picked up the polaroid. “Okay. 1… 2… 3… Say ‘Boo!’,” he clicked the first photo. You smiled, hoping it comes out right. “Okay, so give me a different pose. Maybe get down on your knees,” you gave him a grumpy look, “You heard me. Down. Good girl,” he praised you, which made you blush harder.

You fiddled with your arms, starting to feel yourself gain more confidence, and struck a pose. Mary whistled, “Yes! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he snapped another photo. “Okay, move over to that tombstone… Yeah… Okay, lean over it a bit. Don’t be afraid to show off your nice tits,” he looked at you, a bit mortified that he just said that. “Sorry,” he blushed, scratching the back of his head.

But you obliged him, though, squeezing your arms together a bit to make your cleavage stand out. Your eyes may have wondered down to his pants, checking him out while he took another photo. At this point, there was no hiding his slight stiffy and Mary wasn’t bothered to even try and conceal it.

The next photo, you took command. You leaned against the back of the headstone, both legs stretched out. Mary got down on the ground too, aiming the camera lower than eye level, to get the detail of your boots in the photo. He praised you, snapping a few more along the way.

The next photo, you grabbed one of the jack-o-lanterns you both carved, to pose with. Mary was looking at you, wondering what else you were going to grace the camera with. But you surprised him. You spread your legs, slowly. The heels of your black boots digging through the grass and fallen leaves. He swallowed hard, mesmerized. Your knees were closing into your sides, legs spread open. But the pumpkin sat neatly in between your legs.

“Such a fucking tease… I love it,” Mary giggled, shining his teeth with an evil grin. He got this pose from a couple different angles, “One for me… and one for… me,” you laughed at his words, “Hell, all of these are mine. Sorry.”

You kept laughing, while he waited for the film to develop. There was just enough light left that he sat there, looking at was he shot. “C’mon, Mare. Let me see?” you asked. He stared up at you, still on the ground from taking your photo. He set the camera to the side, holding the polaroids in his hand. He crawled up to you, sitting back on his feet, knees on either side of the pumpkin.

He held up the photo then look at you. Back and forth he kept looking. He scrunched his nose. “What?” you started to panic, “Did they not turn out all right? Or do I look-”. He cut you off, “These,” he shook the polaroids, “are so fucking hot. But they just don’t do you justice.” He flicked them to the ground.

You looked at him, doe eyed. He looked back at you, studying your beauty. He leaned into you, slowly. Both of your chests breathing heavily. You were nervous. Holy shit is this going to be our first kiss? Here? How fitting, you thought. Don't do it... fuck, do not do this... Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought, as his palms began to sweat profusely.

The owl cooed again. The crickets still chirping in time with the twinkling stars, as the night arrived quickly. A cool wind helped as a guide, pushing Mary faster to your lips. You were taken back, at first. Your lips were almost frozen to the touch with his cold ones. But once you guys were lip locked, there was no separating.

You nibbled at his bottom lip, as his tongue wanted further access into your mouth. His hands gripped the pumpkin and tossed it to the side, eliciting a giggle from your throat. Your hands snaked up his chest, around his neck, and through his raven locks. It was a gentle, yet powerful kiss. A kiss that you both had been longing for, for months now. The owl called out again, louder, drawing both of your attention away from one another.

Mary pressed his forehead against yours, both breathing heavy from the kiss. “Fuck…” he breathed out, his lips giving a tug into a smile, which turned sour in a split second. Although his pained expression was unknown to you. He grinded his forehead into yours for a moment, savoring the feeling of this new found closeness, before leaning back onto his feet. He quietly picked up the polaroids and flipped through them again, trying to figure out which one he wanted to keep for himself.

While he was doing that, your hand trailed to the camera on the ground. You held it up, aiming it at Mary. You studied him through the lens, in complete awe of his beauty. “Smile, Scary Mary,” you commanded. He looked up, in shock. The flash went and he blinked a few times. “Uhm, OUCH. What do you think you’re doing? Blinding me?” he hissed, rubbing his eyeballs.

“Boohoo,” you joked, shaking the polaroid to get it to develop. This did nothing, obviously, but it was still a habit you formed years ago. He stood up. Holding out a hand to help you up. You took it and he pulled. You were eye to eye now. “Movie or pizza, now?” he asked, taking out another cigarette to smoke. You both walked in tandem to get back to the walking path to leave. On the way, you grabbed your heavy jacket. “I’m thinkin’ pizza,” you answered.

“Don’t you dare put that jacket back on. I wanna look at that,” he gestured to you, “one last time, okay?”. You didn't really know what he meant by that, but decided to shrug it off. You punched his arm, “But what if I freeze to death?” you asked him. He didn't look concerned at all, taking a puff, “Good thing we’ve got good photos for your funeral then, huh?” He swung an arm over your shoulder, bringing you into his warmth. He kissed the top of your hair, as you both walked into the night together. The sour expression returned to Mary's face, still unknown to you.

Chapter Text

“You’re kidding, right?” you came from the kitchen with a couple beers to join the liquor bottle on the living room table. It had been a couple days since you two had seen each other. You ate pizza after the photoshoot, he walked you home, and that was it. Oh, so you totally forgot to mention that he kissed you AGAIN before he left. It was a quick peck, but it sent you swooning just as hard as the first kiss you shared in the cemetery.

Since the moment Mary had kissed you, he knew it was over for him. The taste of your lips, the little sound you made when your tongues entangled, the smell of your hair… It had plagued his brains for days. Coincidently his anxiety had flared up, as well. This was new territory for him. This was something that he shouldn’t be doing. You know… getting involved. But he shook off those thoughts to hear your scheme.

“I don’t need to play stupid games to get drunk, sugartits,” he scoffed, reaching for the beer as you joined him on the floor. You gasped dramatically, “It’s not stupid! It’s fun, you grump!”. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be unamused. But deep down, you both knew he was going to play.

“Okay,” you tucked your hair behind your ears, sitting up straight to explain the game, “It’s simple. I ask you a question. You answer. You ask me a question. I answer!”. He eyed you, unsure. “What if I don’t wanna answer?” he asked, “Huh?”. You gave him the ‘L’ on the forehead move, “Then you’re a loser,” you laughed, “Usually you’re supposed to drink, but I’m going to be drinking no matter what”.

He sighed, ready to give it a go. “I need to pregame,” he said, screwing off the lid of the hard liquor and taking a quick shot, “If I know you, this is going to be stressful.” You picked a pillow off of the couch and swung it at his arm, “Rude!”. After dodging, he picked up the two shot glasses on the table and filled them.

“So,” you threw a shot down the hatch and asked with a puckered face, “Where are you from?”. Mary smirked at you, should he lie? Should he tell the truth? He is slowly realizing that he could have a lot of fun with this.

“Hell,” he flatly said, staring into your hazy eyes. You scrunched up your nose, “Ewww! You’re from Ohio!?”. Now that caught him off guard and he let out a chuckle, “Uh-huh,” he swallowed the next shot, laughing still.

You lightly punched him in the arm, which put you in another fit of giggles. That was one of his favorite noises, though, so he didn’t mind. “Okay, okay,” he said, thinking of a question, “My turn, princess.”

You sat up straight, “I’m ‘n open book, baby,” you laughed, “Ask away”. He stared at you, putting on his thinking cap, riding out the wave of suspense at what he would ask you. But he chickened out, “I- I’m not good at this stuff, can’t we be normal and just drink without all of this?”.

Your little face pouted, tugging at his heart strings, “C’mon, Mare!” you whined, hands wrapping around his bicep with a tug, “Humor me?”. You looked up at him, bottom lip quivering, giving him your best doe eyes for convincing.

He growled; Typical grumpy Mary. “Fine, fine,” he rolled his eyes at you, pressing his idle beer to his lips. You smiled, eager for his question. His emerald eyes pierced into yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “What was your last dream about?” he smirked.

In his usual nightly patrols, he stopped at your place, unbeknownst to you. Crept up onto the roof, the usual fashion. He didn’t stay long, respecting your privacy once he saw what laid before him; Pillows a mess, blankets on the floor, and your precious head thrown back in a heated fervor. Whatever you were dreaming about, he needed to know.

Your cheeks instantly reddened, “I don’t remember,” you looked around the room, avoiding eye contact. Goddamn, he really went from A to fucking Z. You just asked where he came from! And he pulls up with this? Cheeky Mary, you thought.

“You fucking liar,” he giggled out, giving you shit now, “I know you can feel your cheeks. Fess up,” Mary rubbed his hands together, scooting in closer to you. He loved catching you off guard. The rosiness on your cheeks, your inability to look him in the eye. It was both endearing and hilarious.

“I’m totally not lying!” you lied, trying to find a way to change the subject, “Who even dreams anymore?”. You went to take another sip, but Mary reached out and grabbed it from you, tsking his tongue, “Ah, ah, ah! Not another sip until you spill it, sister”.

Your eyes peered at him, annoyed, “Fine!”. You grabbed the beer back from him and took a swig, “My last dream was… interesting,” Mary looked at you with a flat face, unimpressed, “FINE! It was a sex dream!” You hid your face is shame, wincing from embarrassment.

Mary laughed at your dramatic response, “I knew it had to be good! Details, baby, give me some details” he poked at your sides, making you giggle and squirm. “NO WAY!” you sat up, “You had ONE question, Mare! And I answered,” you winked. He shook his head, filling up a shot for himself, “You’re no fun,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah… whatever,” you rolled your eyes at him. Now it was your turn again. “So,” you took a sip of your drink, “Mary. Interesting name… Were you born with it? Or did you pick it out?”. You were genuinely interested. He peered at you, taking a deep breath. Wouldn’t hurt to let some truth out tonight, Mary thought.

“I, uh, picked it,” he revealed, but your eyes asked for more, “Crawled out of my hole one day and it came to me. Mary Goore. Sounded sophisticated. Repulsive. Exactly like me,” you both laughed. You scooted in a little closer to him, “You didn’t care that it was a lady’s name?” you asked. He shook his head no. “I dig it, Mare. Not afraid to be yourself”, you nodded in approval.

He stretched out an arm, allowing you into his personal space. This was new territory for him. No one has ever asked him these questions before. “A name is a name. Just as I am myself. Having a dick doesn’t limit my identity, sugartits” he playfully scoffed. You respected him more for that, but internally a tad jealous.

“Your turn,” you motioned to him. His eyes grew playful, and he smirked, “Wait, isn’t this supposed to be like ‘Truth or Dare’ or something?” he took a swig of beer, “I’m thinkin’ you’re a chicken and took out the dare part”. He scooped you closer to him with the arm that was around you, attacking you with his other hand, tickling you to spill the beans.

“FINE! Fine,” you yelped out between laughs, “I was scared at what shit you would come up with, Goore!”. He was beaming from ear to ear, cornering you against the couch and himself, making that sweet sound come out of you. “As you should be!” he replied, finally letting up with his fingers.

He grabbed your chin with his hand and squished your cheeks together, making you have a fishy face. “I dare you to kiss me,” Mary smirked, cheeks reddening at the overt cheesiness of the situation. So juvenile, he thought. But isn’t that what happens when people are in love? Oh fuck, ‘in love?’, he thought. IN LOVE? You did NOT just think that, he internally struggled.

Even with your mouth compromised, the smile you made still formed. His hand let up and your lips returned to that smile. You looked into his emerald eyes, cheeks rosy, ready to fulfill your dare. Wetting your pout, you both moved in, chests heaving with anticipation. There was no stuttering or backing out. Your lips slowly moved to each other’s, ready.

His hands cradled your head and back, pulling you forward towards him. Your hands bunched up his band shirt, pulling him down to meet you. His soft lips gentle against yours. Your tongue slipping past the entrance to ask for his. Tastes colliding in a fervor of spiced liquor. He breathed you in as you did him. Tongues now playfully dancing in each other’s mouths.

You only broke the kiss to replenish your lungs. His forehead pressed against yours; He was smiling. Mary’s smile was something that plagued your brain. A sight you wanted to live permanently on his grumpy face.  

You reached your hand up and placed it on his cheek, thumb rubbing into the flesh. Mary relaxed into it, shutting his eyes for a moment, relishing in your touch. But when he opened them, he made a discovery. Something that made a lump form in his throat.

Mary’s eyes focused on the marks stretched across your wrist. You noticed his expression and felt your stomach turn. Apparently he hadn’t noticed your scars, not that you cared to show them off. But considering he helped you bathe a few months ago, you were sure he might have noticed. You quickly tried to retreat your hand against his cheek, but his fingers interlaced with yours and pulled it into inspection.

He looked down, studying the strokes. His eyebrows furrowed and silence filled the room. This was a new level of intimacy, you thought. He knew you were a depressed mess, so an act like that wouldn’t be too unfathomable to understand. You decided to let him inspect you; To ask you anything. After all, tonight was a night for truth.

“You… did this?” he asked, fingers caressing your wrist, not touching the scars. You felt your lips tremble, tears forming in your eyes. Mhm, was all you could respond with. His calloused thumb gently went over the raised skin. He finally looked you in the eyes. “Are-are you really okay?” Mary asked in a whispered tone, eyes searching for truth within your own.  He was worried.

You took a moment to respond. Were you really okay? you thought. You sighed, “Right now I am. And that’s all that matters,” you whispered, looking at him. Your eyes met. He could see the pain through your eyes. The shame. The hurt. He hated that you were feeling these things. People like you didn’t deserve this pain, he thought.

He brought your wrist up to his cold lips and placed a kiss. It was a kiss of reassurance and empathy. A kiss to tell you that you were beautiful and worthy. A kiss to show you that he cared. You closed your eyes, silent tears running down your cheeks. The feelings of shame and guilt were eating at your soul, but Mary doing… this? You weren’t sure how to feel.

“Please don’t hurt yourself, again,” Mary broke the silence. You opened your eyes to look at him and you nodded. It was hard to make promises, but a request? You could try. He bent down his head to yours and kissed you again. This one was impassioned and emotional; He wanted to get his point across.

You breathed him in; Your tears staining his face. A surprise of his hands lifting you up to the couch, him following next. You laid down, allowing him to climb on top of you. Your hands were frantic, pulling him close to you. Emotions soon took over. You wanted Mary to hold you, protect you, love you. And Mary wanted to do those things.

His hand stroked your hair, your lips entangling with each other again. His other hand rubbed down your thigh to hoist it up onto his hip. Tears still fell from your eyes, but you didn’t care. In fact, one or two may have fallen from Mary’s but you’d never know.

That sweet sound he loved escaped your mouth as your tongues danced. Your hands frantically pulling up his shirt to take it off of him. He broke away with ease for only a moment to allow the removal. Your hands crawled up his back, as your nails clawed down. It was Mary’s turn to be vocal, now. And the noise he made, made the band in your core pull.

He growled, now nipping from your cheek to your jawline. Peppering your neck and clavicle with kisses and bites. You opened your eyes, watching his hands snake to the hemline of your oversized hoodie and pulling it over your head. You laid back, Mary kneeling in between your legs. His bare chest rising and falling while he loomed over you.

His dilated pupils took in your form. He had seen you topless, before. That one night, many months ago. But now, it was different. He wanted you. All of you. He bit his lip, rubbing his hands down the outside of your thighs. He looked at you for consent, as his fingers gripped the outside of your underwear. You shook your head ‘yes’, slowly.

He pulled, freeing you from the lacy fabric. You were exposed to him, now. “You’re a vision,” Mary revealed, “You know that?”. His hands rubbed your knees, giving a sense of comfort. Your cheeks reddened at the compliment, but you held up your sock covered foot and rested it on the hem of his jeans, toying with the belt. He got your memo, loud and clear.

He stood up for a moment, sliding down his skinny jeans. Through his briefs, his erection was hardly concealed. You swallowed, aching to see all of Mary. He followed through and pulled off his briefs, his impressive length springing free. Just the sight of him made a moan slip out of your mouth.

He smirked. He positioned himself in between you, again, and you were face to face. He rubbed his nose against yours, making you giggle. “Let me pleasure you,” he kissed your lips, “Okay?”. You weren’t one to say ‘no’, when it came to that. But you were emotionally fragile. Maybe he knew that and wanted to put you at ease first? Mighty sweet of him.

And your inference was correct. Mary wanted you to let loose. To be more comfortable. He also had been wanting to taste you for a while. He wanted to see if you were really as sweet as you seemed. He gave you another kiss, smiling as he kissed his way down your body.

His hands massaged your breasts, leaving a trail of kisses over the peaks of your nipples. His soft tongue playing with them gave your entire body goosebumps. He continued to knead them for a minute, while his tongue kissed over your ribs, your belly button, and finally your heated core. He stared back up at you, a fair warning of his lust.

His emerald eyes peering deep into yours as his long, wide tongue slowly licked from the bottom to the top, vibrating your clit. You slammed your head back in a loud moan, “FFfffUCK,” you couldn’t help but let out. Mary smirked; His eyes darkened. Once he got a taste, there were no holds barred.

His hot breath, panted over your glistening folds. His tongue lapped against your throbbing clit. You were close. Your fingers interlaced with his raven locks, pulling them tight. You needed him to feel your desperation. “Don’t stop, Mare, I’m close,” you moaned out, head rolling back. He looked up at you, a flash of déjà vu from your sex dream the other night. Hopefully she will dream of this, he thought, I know I will.

He surprised you, slipping in two of his digits, thrusting them simultaneously. Now that sent you over the edge. His tongue lapping up your juices, his face glistening in the romantic setting. The wet sound of his fingers ferociously curling in and out of you… His cock was leaking all over the couch, aching to feel what his fingers felt. You moaned out his name in your last rite, before your breath hitched and toes curled.

You pulled Mary up by his hair to meet your lips. Tasting yourself on him was a pleasant surprise, as his mouth devoured yours. His hot member rested on your thigh, leaking out impatiently. He gave you one last kiss before breaking it, leaning up between your legs.

Mary lined himself up with your slick entrance. He moved the tip of his member up and down your clit, making you moan with a giggle. He laughed, “You ready, sugartits?”. You bit your lip, “I’ve been ready, Mary”. He gave you a wink as he lined you up and slowly pushed in.

You let out a breath, “Fffuck, Mare”. He laughed, growling as your body allowed him to the hilt. “Good girl,” he praised you jokingly, making you hit him in the arm. “Shut up and fuck me already,” you laughed, breathlessly.

He grinded himself into you, figuring eighting, “You didn’t say ‘Dare’,” he laughed. You groaned in annoyance, hooking both of your legs around his waist, incidentally, pulling him deeper. He moaned at that maneuver and decided to stop playing around.

He held either side of your hips, pulling himself out and snapping himself back in. Repeating the behavior once or twice, pulling out and snapping in. You groaned and ached, hands clawing at his arms to free you from this torture. His hair, falling beautiful in front of his face as he grinded into you one last time. He slicked his hair back, staying in place from the sweat of his brow. His hands moved up and down your sides, romantically kneading your flesh as he rhythmically started to thrust into you.

"Oh, fuck, you feel so good," he whimpered, "Touch yourself for me, baby". And you did, hand moving to your clit, encircling it. The sight before him, made him feral. This goddess below, perfect to him. He grunted, growling in anger. To think of anyone who would hurt you or for you to ever feel pain or sadness again... it made him angry. Life wasn't fair. And he took his frustration out on you. And you didn't mind.

His hands clawed into your flesh, pulling you deeper and harder onto his throbbing cock. And they became sporadic; He was close. “F-fuck, baby, I’m-fuck,” he groaned out, grinding into your center. You cried, “Please, Mary, please,” begging him to give you more. And he obliged. He placed either arm on the sides of your head and let loose. One of his hands grabbed your loose hair and tugged, making you look at him.

“Tell me- fuck, Say it again,” Mary looked into your eyes, pent up. Your eyebrows wriggled, unable to concentrate as his length hit that sweet spot, deep inside you, over and over and over again. “Mary, please,” you moaned out with sweet misery. The more he pounded into you, the louder you moaned his name, begging him for sweet release.

Mary came with a growl, a desperate ache from within. Your legs locked around his waist, further deepening his cock. His hips sputtered, releasing himself into your core. Your hands clawed into his back, wanting to become closer than physically possible. You never wanted to let go.

Mary pulled out from you, making you groan from the absence. His body sank further on top, his sweaty forehead nuzzling into yours. He shut his eyes and sighed, “Please, don’t hurt yourself again”. You whimpered, that ball of guilt and shame still lumped in your throat. “Please,” he whispered out, again, kissing your forehead. You timidly shook your head ‘yes’, once more. When he looked into your eyes, he no longer saw those feelings of guilt and shame, though. Instead he saw hope. But in his, there was only the reflection of guilt.

Chapter Text

And just like a flame being blown out, your happiness ended pretty quickly. Making love to the lurker of your dreams had finally healed something in you. But waking up to an empty bed once again… felt like a familiar stabbing right through your healed heart. Why did he keep doing this shit. And you were so easy to fall for it. Even giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had left to go grab you guys breakfast. But nope.

You waited.

And waited.

But nothing.

In fact, it had been four months of waiting.

And within those four months, you’d just been… a zombie. An actual zombie. Your mental health had never been that bad before. The will to exist had been… nonexistent. And all over a guy? Get a fucking grip, you told yourself. No, it was more than that. You opened up to him. Literally showing him the scars of your sadness. And you thought it had actually meant something.

You finally decided to find a new distraction. Opening up a Tinder account might not have been the healthiest of decisions, but so fucking what? You just had your heart ripped out; You were allowed to be unhealthy for a minute. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Your afternoons now consisted of barely eating and laying in bed, continuously swiping left on every photo you see. You tried not to think about him, but even subconsciously you were comparing every profile to him. You finally settled on one subterranean. He wasn’t half bad looking; Seedy enough.

He was from the next town over and wanted to take you out for a drink. You figured ‘he who must not be named’ is probably lurking at the bars across town, so you decided to avoid those. You guys settled on a Friday night and that he would pick you up. You were being careless, sure. A stranger coming to your house? Taking you to a bar another town over? Yikes. But you just didn’t care anymore.

You lazily went through your wardrobe; Picked out a sweater, a skirt, some tights, and boots. The classic, nonchalant sexy look. Your hair? Messy. Makeup? Smeared on with your finger. You looked in the mirror and stared. “Fuck,” you cursed, feeling the tears start up again. You gave yourself a good smack in the face to bring you back to reality. “You’re doing this. You’re not backing out,” you clenched your fists.

Your phone buzzed, breaking the peptalk. It was him. He has arrived. You felt a knot in your stomach grow tighter. You didn’t even want to go, why were you doing this? You thought. You brushed it off as you locked your front door and hopped into his truck.

His ride was gross. You made a mental note to shower immediately when you got home. And you also made a mental note that you probably wouldn’t fuck him. If he didn’t clean his car, you weren’t even going to image how foul his ass is. You giggled to yourself, and he looked at you funny. The small talk was… small. His hand kept inching towards your thigh the whole ride. Weirdo, you thought.

“So, like, you look really hot,” He complimented you. Then proceeded to ramble on about the other women he has dated and why they were all ‘crazy’. But then he just needed to mention for the fifteenth time that he really wasn’t looking for anything serious. He’s just more of a physical guy who can’t really get too attached. You rolled your eyes as you watched the traffic lights twinkle in the light misting of the night.

You finally arrived and a ‘thank fuck’ may have slipped out of your mouth as you hopped out of his truck. He tried to put his arm around you as you both walked to the bar, but you played up the oblivious card and pretended to not notice.

The bar was typical. Grungy and loud. Some band was playing up at the front which was a nice distraction in case this date decided to turn even worse. He led you to a table near the front, further away from the band.

As you sat down at a table, clear as fucking day, was Mary Goore three tables down. You both immediately made eye contact with one another. His eyes stabbed daggers through yours and you couldn’t help but feel sick. Seeing him made you want to run away, leaving your date behind. Your skin paled and you knew you had to leave.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked with a sharp tongue. You crinkled your eyebrows, flaring a nostril with your response, “What? Am I not allowed to have a fucking life outside of you?”. Mary just stared at you. You knew he was getting angrier and angrier with the rise and fall of his chest. “Oh, please, sugartits. Save the drama” he took a swig of his beer, still glaring at you.

“It’s not like you own every bar,” you stood up, grabbing your things, “How the fuck was I supposed to know you would even be here?”. The question was aimed at him, but you were more or less mumbling in rage at yourself. You knew that if you looked at him one more time, you would start crying. How pathetic, you thought.

Your date stood up with you, grabbing your arm, “Where are you going? I thought we were going to have a good time?” he said, sounding upset. You pulled away from him, “I’m- I’m sorry, I just… I just can’t. I’m sorry, really” you told him. You quickly ran out of the bar, leaving the scene behind. Sucks that he was your ride, but you didn’t care. You just had to get out of there.

Your date watched the door close and yelled, “GOOD LUCK GETTING HOME!” He was upset that you ditched him. He sat down at the bar, raising his hand for a beer. He took a swig back and told the bartender, “Bitch probably wasn’t going to put out anyways,” he snickered, “I do know where she lives, though,” he laughed.

Mary’s ears perked up, “What did you say?” he eyed the man. He glanced over his shoulder, rolling his eyes, “Wouldn’t stop begging me to go out with her and then this happened? Crazy bitch”. Mary stood up abruptly from his chair and stormed over to the man, yanking him around and balling up his fists in his shirt.

The man grimaced and snarled at Mary’s attack, “What the fuck, man!” he yelled, “You’re the reason I got cockblocked, I should be beating the shit out of you!”. Mary’s grip tightened, but the man didn’t shut up, “You both deserve each other. Crazy ass fucking people.” Mary pushed him against the bar, spilling the man’s beer. The bartender immediately came over, “YOU. OUT. NOW!” He pointed to the door.

Mary left the bar with disgust. He started to storm off. He didn’t like seeing you earlier. In fact, it pained him to see you. He didn’t like how he left you. But he knew that he was way too involved. He had to leave. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. But now that that man in there said he knew where you lived… it made Mary uneasy. The least he could do was try to find you to warn you.

All he had to do was follow that scent. Your annoying vanilla perfume you always wore. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love it. But you really sprayed it on heavy tonight. Seeing your face made his heart feel like it had been unbeating since the day he left you. And when you walked in, thump thump thump. He had a pulse again.

He turned a corner and you were walking down this creepy alleyway. Dumpster and all. “Hey,” he called out to you, keeping his hands in his leather jacket. He heard a small sniffle as you turned around for a second, only to walk faster. He rolled his eyes, catching up to you quickly. “Would you just fucking listen!” He growled at you, attempting to touch your arm to get you to slow down.

“WHY?” was all you could cry out, turning around and staring holes through him. He grimaced in equal pain, restraining himself to comfort you. “Why what-“ he tried to respond, but you cut him off. “WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?” you answered with a vileness he hadn’t seen from you before. He coward away, which was something you hadn’t seen from him before.

He was silent. He knew this was coming. He tried rehearsing how this would go in his head for months now. And when it came down to it, he couldn’t say a word.

“What… what did I do?” Your bottom lip trembled and it broke his fucking heart even more. “Nothing!” He quickly said, “It’s… it’s me. I… fuck, I’m not right. Not right for you.” His brows furrowed in deep frustration, but more seemingly with him than you.

You stood there. Tears running down your cheeks, you looked down. That old feeling taking over again. He snapped in panic, “Don’t you fucking dare, baby. Listen,” he took a step closer, “I’m not… not…” he punched the nearby dumpster in frustration.

You yelped out, eyes going wide with overwhelming emotions. “I need to tell you something,” his eyes went to yours again. “I’m not human.” Your eyebrows furrowing, confused as all get out.

“I… Fuck, listen,” he took a breath, “I’m not… I only woke up from my… because…” he growled, pacing as if this was paining him to reveal. You stood there quietly, waiting for any kind of explanation… and so far he wasn’t making any sense. Probably drunk, you rolled your eyes impatiently.

He turned to you again, “You brought me back to life. Made my heart beat again.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his explanation. Didn’t make sense whatsoever. Was he trying to be poetic? “Metaphorically or?” You asked and his jaw clenched in aggrevation, “No, damnit. I’m alive just for you.”

He threw you his phone, you were the only contact. “So you’re just a creepy stalker?” You asked taking a step back, towards the abandoned alley. He crept forward a step, “In a way”.

His face was stoic, but his eyes were pained. “Are you even real?” Your chest rose and fell with panic, was he telling the truth? You thought. As you took another step back, he took another step forward, “In a way,” he repeated. “Answer me, goddamnit!” you cried, bawling up your fists.

“Remember when I told you I crawled out of a grave? I wasn’t lying,” He stared at you, sadness in his eyes. “Oh, please. Now you save the fucking dramatics,” you rolled your eyes, scoffing at him. You felt your eyes welling up. “I’m a lot of things, babe,” he said softly, “But I’m not a liar”.

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. The streetlamps flickering in the abandoned street, as the sound of cars in the distance filled the voice. “Prove it,” was all you could mutter.

Chapter Text

Mary grabbed your wrist roughly, pulling you down the alleyway. Despite your whimpers of pain and annoying protests, he yanked you along; His strength leaving bruises on your wrists. “Fuck- Mary, fucking stop!” you clawed at his hand; White knuckling yours to death.

He marched you up the back way towards the cemetery. Perhaps he was going back to where you both first met? You weren’t sure. Hell, maybe he was going to put you in your own grave. You wouldn’t slide it past him, given his current state.

“Where are we fucking going?” you cried out, noticeably worried. “Almost there, sugar tits,” his voice had a venomous tone. His course of direction heading straight towards a particular headstone, perched over the hill. He threw your wrist away, causing you to stumble.

He stood next to an old stone; A big cross with moss and wear all over it. You stared at his empty expression, as the rain began again. “What are we doing here?!” you yelled out to him, needing some kind of fucking clarification.

“Read it,” he grimaced, not even looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t help the roll in yours, thinking this all was ridiculous. The droplets of water heavy on your eyelashes, but still didn’t stop them from flickering to the cross.

Here Lies Mary Goore

1969-1998

You blinked, even more confused as ever as to what he was showing you. His eyes now on your face, studying it’s every reaction. Spitter spats of rain came down even harder; The cold slicing against both of you. Your eyes still fixated on the old tombstone. Moss clinging to it. It had a death year, alright, ‘1998’.

“I… I don’t know how this even works, okay? But I fucking died. And then you…” his green eyes pierced through your soul, “You gave me life.” A crack of thunder split the tension. Your eyes zeroing in on his, studying him. Cautiously.

“It was a while ago,” he whispered, “I remember the ground being wet. Cold. Just hearing you cry. Talking about something,” he shook his head recalling. His eyes flickering away, a white glaze over them as if what he was trying to remember was painful, “I had to claw my way out,” his eyes went to yours again.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. He could totally be lying, using the name of the grave as his own. Or… just or… he could be telling the truth. Your eyes never left his. Waiting for him to go on.

You cocked a brow, “Then what?” you whispered. He took a deep breath, taking a step forward, “Ran around. Dazed and confused. Like I woke up in fucking Hell,” he spat out, “It’s like no matter what happened, I couldn’t die again. I held up in that mausoleum over there.” Your eyes followed his direction. An old Mausoleum across the paths.

“Watched you for a couple years. Always crying and bitching at my grave,” he shook his head, “It’s like I couldn’t get you out of my head. Every waking thought…” his fists clenched, “Had to make sure you were okay.” He took another step forward, which caused you to back up quickly. Backside hitting another headstone.

“No, no, no,” he stuttered out, “You don’t get to run. You can’t. Not from me.” His tone was dark, but… needy? Your eyes widened, feeling out of your element. That look in his eye, you believed him. “I’m not the one who ran!” you bit back with courage, “Catch feelings then run away like a coward? Why didn’t you just bury yourself back up?” tears went down your cheeks.

His jaw clenched in anger, “That’s not what I…” his fists clenched harder, “Do you know how fucking hard it is?!” he stepped right up to you. Both of you breathing intensely, “How am I supposed to live for you, when I’m still dead? That’s why I made sure…” he gave a curt nod.

“Made sure about what?” your brows furrowed. His eyes never leaving yours. “Made sure that you fucking lived,” he whispered hoarsely. A close crack of lightning hit a tree branch, neither of you even noticing as your gaze was so engrossed in one another.

A defeated whimper escaped his throat. His eyes glistening from impending tears. “How can I-“ he sniffled, “Love you when… I’m this monster. I… Leaving was the only chance for you to live, actually live, baby.”

You swallowed. Listening. Studying. Your heart feeling like it was going to explode any moment from a weird concoction of heart ache and heart break. Bottom lip trembling as you got the courage to ask, “How did you die?”