Long Way Down (Fish)

[SongofWindchimes]

Someone who decided to describe Marco in a kind way would call him a joker. Someone less kind would call him an ass. Either way, few could argue that he wasn't always looking for a laugh. He could swap from teasingly implying that he had a huge ego to squeaking in feigned terror and hiding behind their petite guitarist, or from claiming his female friends were peerless beauties to gasping and accusing them of being cruel heart-breakers. He would do pretty much anything to amuse someone, and made a habit of teasing the women of Grass Ice and Fire until they all ganged up on him and he was facing counter-attacks from all sides.

After the twenty-sixth of November, Marco stopped laughing.

He hadn't wanted to believe it, but living in the Capital didn't really give him a chance for denial. Concern for his friends and sister took over for a while, but once he had the confirmation that all were safe, the vacuum that concern left behind was filled with rage. All those people dead...dying...injured...that lost their homes or loved ones or both...

Days after, Marco found himself laying on his stomach on the floor of his living room, angry tears streaming down his face. One of his hands was throbbing, and he vaguely remembered slamming his fist into the wall, but he didn't know how many times he'd done it. The entire area looked like a hurricane had gone through it; anything that had been on his walls were now in every corner of the room, as were his couch cushions, one of which the upper half of his body was currently resting on. If he looked too hard, he knew he'd find that he'd broken any number of things, but he didn't.

Instead, Marco carefully pushed himself to his feet, drying his eyes on the back of his hand. He wobbled a little for a moment; he was exhausted, but he ignored it and made his way to kitchen. He picked up a glass and ran the tap, not bothering to check if the water was cold before he filled the glass and took a gulp, making his throat feel less like he was going to perform Flamethrower at any moment. He then squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath for the first time in too long.

What day is it?

Marco's eyes opened again, and he blinked a couple of times at that single thought that had crossed his mind. He drank what was left of the glass of water and put it down, pausing to rub his sore hand before he walked into the living room again and found where his jacket was hanging by the door. He fished his cellphone out of his pocket and flipped it open, praying it still had a battery charge as he tried to turn it on.

When he caught sight of the date, he nearly dropped the phone. He'd been...he'd been tearing apart his house like some kind of wild animal...for all this time...

Charisma.

The name floated to the surface of his mind, and what rage remained in his blood was cooled as the ice of concern replaced it. Where was Charisma? Was she okay? Was anyone in the band okay? He couldn't be the only one affected emotionally by this. The fatigue that had been weighing him down was chased away instantly to make way for a rush of determination.

Marco tossed his leather jacket on, idly touching his hair. It was probably a mess...but he didn't care. He'd been wrapped up in his rage for this long...and left his best friend alone. He was going to see Charisma now.

He hoped she was home...But he'd look all over town if he had to.

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)]Anyone who didn't know Charisma would have called her an outcast; weird, maybe even a bitch who saw herself as above everyone else. Her closest friends, well, her only three friends in the world, knew that wasn't the case. She didn't let a lot of people in, but those she did knew she was a very caring, loving person, even if she showed it differently. Charisma didn't participate in the drugs, drinking, and partying, but it wasn't because she thought she was superior; the woman just had a higher set of morals. But after the 26th of November...she seemed to vanish off the face of the planet. Not even the band saw her for the next several days. She'd closed herself in her apartment, alone with her depression. Normally, violence and war lit a fire up under her. But the bombing...all those people dead...so close to her own home...Luckily she lived far enough out, but it cut her deep. Not even Marco could see her like this. Marco...though she'd never admit it to him or Holly or Trish or anyone, that man was her best friend. But she shut herself away since the bombing. Angry basslines would occasionally fill the air, thumping madly like an out of control heartbeat. But after a few days, even that stopped--to the relief of her neighbors. The very nice, though sort of small apartment was no longer clean. Clothes lay everywhere, papers with angry, depressed lyrics and poems scribbled on them were scattered across the room. She tried not to think about the band; she didn't want them to see her like this. Her door was unlocked, and she sat on the couch. But...even still...something wasn't right today. Tremors of War was BLASTING on the CD player. But that wasn't strange, after all, her band wrote that song. A six pack of beer was on the coffee table, two empty bottles on the floor beside it. A third bottle was in Charisma's hand, and she tipped it back, half lying down. Anyone who knew Charisma would tell you she was straight edge; no drinking, no drugs, no smoking, no sex before marriage. But today...Charisma Renee Hart, the Straight Edge Bassist of Grass Ice and Fire, had tossed her morals out the window... [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

The walk to Charisma's apartment felt longer than it should be. Part of Marco kept telling himself that she was okay, but it was more that she had to be. Charisma was strong in pretty much every way; her personality, her morals...And yet Marco just felt like he had to see her, just once, just to be absolutely sure. Ladies man (or, rather, not-just-ladies man) reputation aside...Marco really didn't have many people who genuinely occupied a place in his heart like Charisma did, and the other two non-family people who did were likely to be with each other; Holly and Trish always seemed like they were attached at the hip.

Once he finally reached her door, however, Marco froze, hovering in front of it in a rare moment of hesitation. He recognized the song, of course, muffled as it was through the door. Tremors of War...If Marco were to ever be completely honest, he would call that among his favourites of their songs. Not Night Daze, or Venomous Shock. Not Dark Disguise, Wrath of Arceus, or any of their covers. If there was anything the whole band shared other than their love of music, it was a hatred of war, and even if it was one of their earlier pieces, he was proud of it.

Marco took a deep breath and tried to the doorknob, since he doubted Charisma would be able to hear him knocking. Unlocked. He opened the door and stepped into the room, pulling it closed behind him. Marco then, for a moment, simply froze.

Yes, the place was a mess, though not quite the carnage his own one man wrecking crew had inflicted in his own home, but the clothes and scattered papers might as well have not been there at the moment. Even his own singing voice, blasting at an ungodly volume, seemed to vanish momentarily at the sight of Charisma with a bottle in her hand. Marco felt like something had been ripped out of him as he stared, still somewhat oblivious to the fact that he looked like a mess, black hair unbound and and not having been brushed, leather jacket sitting open overtop a wrinkled T-shirt that looked like he'd slept in it...If there had been a chance of him feeling self-conscious after finding her, it was gone.

"Charisma...?" The near-squeak of a word was drowned out by the music that he became aware was still there. This...no no no no no! Something in Marco's bright blue eyes flashed and he nothing short of stormed right over to the woman on the couch. "Charisma!" he bellowed over the song, "What in the hell are you doing?"

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)]To be honest, Charisma didn't even see Marco at first. She was way past gone; though she'd only had two and a half as it stood, but Charisma hadn't had a drop before this night. And she wasn't exactly large. She took another drink, adjusting a little. Then...she saw him. Marco. Any other time, he'd be the first person she wanted to see. But right now....he was the last. In truth...Charisma held Marco closer to her heart than anyone. But right now just...even drunk, she was pained to see him like that. And he saw her like.....this. "Drinking..." she slurred, looking at him dryly. "Now leave me alone...." [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

Marco didn't so much as twitch at the reply. His eyes, usually carrying a teasing glitter, were instead like ice, and there was no sign of his trademark smile. There was no sign that the man standing there could smile. Marco was, in a word, pissed. Not at Charisma--he was pretty sure there was nothing that could make him angry with her--but at the fact that she had been hurting enough to resort to this...and he hadn't come here soon enough to stop it from happening. "Like hell I will."

He moved away just long enough to turn off her CD player, and, for a moment, the silence left behind was deafening, but he didn't give himself time to adjust to it before he was in front of Charisma again. "You've had enough. Give me the bottle. Now." He doubted she'd listen, but she deserved one chance before he wrestled it from her by force.

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)]Charisma's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Her eyes lacked the usual joking gleam, the usual fire in her eyes. First he turned off her music...and now he was asking for the bottle?!? But...it was hers... "But I'm not done yet." she argued. "Okay....fine..." she muttered, before something more...intense flashed in her eyes. But this was...new. It was...anger. In a flash, Charisma picked up an empty bottle, throwing it at Marco's head. Of course she was drunk, meaning her aim was off, and the bottle smashed into the wall next to him. [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

The sound of the bottle breaking against the wall so close to him sent a chill rushing down Marco's spine. That...she just...He hadn't been expecting a reaction that violent. The thought of what would have happened if she didn't have such horrible aim terrified him, but all he showed outwardly was more anger. "That's how you want it?"

Marco nothing short of lunged at Charisma, aiming to grab both her wrists to ensure no more throwing projectiles or drinking...which had an unexpected result due to the fact that he wasn't exactly at his most controlled and the target of his lunge was much lighter than he was. Said result was, rather than just grabbing her, he found himself, instead, on top of her on the couch, pinning her there.

Worry flashed across his features momentarily, breaking his furious expression. He hadn't meant to do that. Oh God, he hoped he hadn't slammed her that hard against the couch cushions. Sure, it wasn't like he'd tackled her to the floor or anything but...Marco forced himself not to think about that right now. After that stunt with the bottle, he was predicting an unpleasant reaction to this.

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)] Charisma was not expecting him to lunge like that, and she fell onto her back on the couch. Her head hit the arm-rest, but it was a very soft, comfortable couch so it was almost like hitting your head on a marshmallow. However, in the process of being tackled, the bottle fell out of Charisma's hand, breaking on the floor and spilling its contents onto the hard wood. Now, in her drunken state, if Charisma hadn't have been so angry, she might have actually liked this. But as it stood...no. The woman thrashed and struggled under Marco's grip, even kicking at him. "GET OFF OF ME!" She shrieked, then tears began to stream down her face as she let out a horrible, ear splitting scream that one would think she wasn't even capable of. "Leave me alone!" [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

Marco cringed at the screaming and thrashing, but didn't loosen his grip, even when he saw her tears and felt like he'd been stabbed. He hated this, hated himself, but she wasn't giving him any other options. He was going to save her from herself, and if she was going to scream and throw things like a child, he was going to treat her like one.

Marco's expression hardened again. "I'm not going anywhere." He locked his eyes right on hers, his voice rising in volume. "I love you too damn much to let you do this to yourself, and if I have to drag you kicking and screaming into your own bedroom and lock you in it until you're sober, don't think I won't!"

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)]Charisma tensed up in his grasp, but said nothing, her eyes still cold. He...loved her? What? Yeah, right....She tried to break free one more time, but then stopped. Then...she did something else she never would have done. As if thrashing and throwing things weren't enough. She spat in his face. "You don't love me, you love chasing everyone else! Now get off of me; I hate you!" [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

That genuinely hurt. Not the spitting, though he'd admit that had been unexpected and made him flinch a little. No, it was the words 'I hate you.' Of course, this was a drunk woman screaming at the person who'd taken away her beer, so he knew it meant about as much as anything he'd ever said while drunk, but all the same...

Marco's expression and voice softened a little, but he still retained his grip. "I'm not going anywhere," he said for the second time. "Like it or not, I do love you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here. The only reason I dragged myself out of my apartment is because I was worried about you." He didn't know why he was bothering, since Charisma was clearly long out of her right mind, but, for whatever reason, Marco wanted to get it through her alcohol-addled skull that someone actually cared about her.

Which is probably why he did what he did next, even though he realized that he was opening himself up for a headbutt or something similar. Marco leaned down and kissed Charisma's forehead gently, adding, "Nothing you do is going to change that."

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)]Charisma was still trying to get free, but he had too good a hold on her. She began to tremble; that drunken aggression now passed. What she did next was far more unexpected. The woman broke down and cried. Long tears streamed down her face as she shook. "Why? I'm a mess...I'm just a big screwup..." She looked at him. "Why don't you go chase a lay like always? Why come to me now? Just because I'm drunk?" [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

Marco didn't reply for a second, mostly because he didn't really know what to say, her last question ringing through his mind. Because she was...? Oh God, did she think he wanted to...? He hadn't really been considering his choice of words until this moment. After all, he did love Charisma; the band was practically family to him, especially her. But what she'd just said...Dammit, he didn't think he'd miss the angry drunk in favour of her looking at him like that with tears in her eyes. He didn't know if he wanted to let her go, start crying himself, both, or...he wasn't sure.

"You're not a screw up," he said when he got his voice back, ignoring the rest of what she'd said for the moment. "You're human. And hurting. I don't blame you for wanting to make the pain go away..." Tears of his own started to form in his eyes, and blinking sent them rolling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I had to storm in here and shout at you and pin you like this when I should have been here days ago and been there for you."

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)]Charisma gave a shudder, relaxing a little as tears flowed down her face, but soon she ran out of tears, and just lay there sobbing. She said nothing, speechless as she lay there silent. Her eyes closed tightly, and her breathing steadied as the woman fell asleep. About that moment, a small 'mew' could be heard from under the couch, and Babygirl poked her head out from her hiding place. "Purrrrr?" [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

There was nothing else Marco could really say. He just let Charisma cry, doing nothing to stop his own tears. He loosened his grip somewhere along the line, though he didn't completely let go until Charisma's breathing steadied and he was sure she was asleep. The soft meow caught his attention, and he glanced down to see the little purple and cream face peeking out from under the couch. It felt like Marco's heart broke even more, if that was even possible.

Marco paused only briefly to plant another kiss on Charisma's forehead, not thinking too hard about why he'd felt the impulse to do so, and carefully got off her and the couch. Avoiding the glass from the broken bottle, he knelt down in front of the little Purrloin kitten's hiding place.

"Hey there, kit-kat," he whispered gently, his lips twitching into a weak smile as he spoke the affectionate nickname; he'd always adored Babygirl. He wiped the lingering tears on his face with one hand as he held out the other toward the little cat pokemon. "Were you there the whole time, baby?"

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)]Charisma continued sleeping; she'd be out for a while. However, at the second kiss to the forehead, a very faint, brief smile formed on her lips before quickly vanishing. The little Purrloin crawled out of her hiding place and rubbed against Marco's leg affectionately. Then, she nimbly jumped up on the coffee table, and lightly over to the couch. She lay down on Charisma's chest, snuggling and purring before licking her trainer's chin. "Purrrrrr...." [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

Marco's smile became a little closer to genuine at the sight of Babygirl cuddling up to Charisma, and he forced a weak chuckle. "Good idea. She needs all the snuggling she can get." He wiped his eyes again as he stood up, and he immediately felt the urge to sink back to the ground again in exhaustion, which he managed to fight off for the moment.

His gaze moved from the six-pack on the coffee table, to the broken bottle and beer on the floor, to what was left of the bottle that had hit the wall. "Bit of a mess, huh?" he commented, more to himself than the kitten, "I should probably clean up." That did involve finding where Charisma's broom was, among other things, but that wouldn't be too hard, right?

For now, he grabbed what remained of the six-pack, intending to haul it into the kitchen before he did anything else. Frankly, his first instinct was to pour it right down the drain, but he reasoned that Charisma would probably want to do that herself once she was in her right mind.

Marco paused after a few steps, however, and looked back at Charisma, their conversation, if he could call it that, running through his mind. She was drunk. He shouldn't let what she said hurt him. But, dammit, he couldn't get the accusation that he didn't care about her out of his mind.

He sighed, shook his head and kept walking. First, put the bottles in the kitchen. Then, clean up the broken glass and beer. Then find something to crash on where he could still be right there when Charisma woke up. Then deal with...whatever had just happened here. Dammit he was tired...

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)] The little Purrloin snuggled as far into her trainer as she could, purring soothingly as she drifted off into a deep sleep. Charisma had scared her...but...she'd wake up better, right? Of course she would! Charisma would never hurt her on purpose, right? RIGHT! The living room looked like a tornado had blown through. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and every CD the band ever made was next to the stereo, aside from their self-titled album, which was in the CD player; the case lying on top of the radio. The only neat thing in the room, was on the back wall. Charisma's five basses were lined up neatly and spotlessly on their stands next to her amp. She had a green one, a transparent blue one, a fiery one consisting of reds, yellows and oranges, and a solid black one, which was her very first. She used all of them depending on her mood, but the last was her personal current favorite, which she used more often. But the last was custom made, and round. It was divided into thirds, and essentially was the logo for "Theory of Evolution" without the Eeveelutions. The Green section looked like grass, the blue, like ice, and the red, like fire. On the floor next to the coffee table was a pile of pages torn from a notepad, with random lines scribbled on them. Anger, aggression, Hatred, Pity, Doubt I need to scream but I can't let it out. Depression, Confusion, Worry, Envy Eating alive every part of me I don't know which way to turn, Set my soul on fire, watch it burn My only choice is to drown my sorrow So wake me up when it's tomorrow. And if anyone shall come through my lonely door, they'll find my heart, in pieces on the floor.... [/scrolly]

[SongofWindchimes]

Alone with his thoughts was not a state Marco wanted to be in right now. His fatigue was almost a blessing, since it kept his mind from wandering too much as he made an attempt at organizing the place. Sweeping up the glass and cleaning up the beer was simple enough, and all he'd really planned to do at first, but he found himself picking up pieces of clothing and making fairly pathetic attempts at folding it; after many long minutes of fighting with a green shirt, he finally gave up and draped it over an arm of the couch. He really could fold clothing. Really. He was just tired.

Marco shook his head and suddenly seemed to finally notice Charisma's basses. Or, rather, notice that they were the only part of the room untouched by the chaos. That actually managed to earn a very small, very weak chuckle. Some things never changed, huh? That thought, however, lead to him looking to the woman on the couch again, and what trace of mirth he'd summoned vanished.

You don't love me, you love chasing everyone else!

Yes he did. Yes he did. She was his best friend. He'd go to hell and back for her. He shook his head. Drunk. Didn't mean it. Shouldn't let it bother him. Marco demanded his brain shut up for a while, bending down to pick up another article of clothing, only for it to brush against something that made a distinctly not-fabric sound.

He blinked, only now just seeing the pages on the floor. He dropped the clothing and picked them up instead, with the intent of just putting them on the coffee table.

His eyes seemed to have other ideas, as they skimmed over the first few words. Before Marco realized what he was doing, he was taking in every bit of the piece. It was no secret to him that Charisma was an accomplished lyricist, of course, but this...

My only choice is to drown my sorrow.

"No it isn't..." Marco didn't even know he'd whispered it, nor did he notice the fact that new tears were starting to form.

I don't know which way to turn.

Marco put down the papers, and a moment of impulse made him grab the shirt from the couch and drop it on top of them so he couldn't see them. The feeling of self-hatred washed over him again as he found the nearest chair and simply collapsed into it, squeezing his eyes shut.

Hatred.

Doubt.

Depression.

Envy.

Why don't you go chase a lay like always? Why come to me now?

The will to stay awake had left him. Marco had been running almost entirely on force of will, and now it felt like that had been sapped from him. He fell asleep almost instantly, looking like an even worse mess than when he'd arrived and sleeping like a rock.

[KARP KARP!]

[atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i682.photobucket.com/albums/vv181/SojiRem/charismaposttable.png);][atrb=width, 497][atrb=height, 297][atrb=style,border:0 darkviolet none,b,Table][scrolly:h(240),w(282),sy,as(padding:4px 0px 5px;margin-top:48px;margin-left:212px;)] Big brown eyes slowly opened, only to squint at the harsh light coming into the room. Her head was throbbing, and she felt a light heaviness on her chest. Oh, the weight on her chest was Babygirl... She pet the kitten gently. "Purrr?" Charisma flinched. "Ssshhh...It's okay, Babygirl," she groaned softly. Lying there several minutes, Charisma finally fought her way to her feet, cradling the kitten as she made her way to the kitchen. Wait....the house...it was clean? When did she...? The bassist made a pot of coffee, setting down Babygirl and giving her food. It was then that she saw the beers she hadn't drank, and dumped them in the trash, cringing at the sound they made, even though they didn't break. Pouring a cup of coffee, she made her way back to the living room couch. Then, she blinked. "Marco?" Lying back down on the couch, her face paled. How long had he been here? When did he get here? ....Oh dear Arceus what did he see? "Marco...I hope to Arceus I didn't hurt you...or do...anything. I'm never drinking again," she whispered, though a tear stained her eyes at the word "again." [/scrolly]