Chapter Text
It had been an exhausting day at work for Marvin. Because of the sudden influx of people quitting, he had to take on an extra workload to maintain productivity. On top of the headache of sitting through Black Friday traffic, Marvin was more than eager to finally return home to relax with his lover.
He sighed as he pushed open the front door, shrugging his jacket off.
“Babe, I’m-”
Upon entering his home, he instantly realized that it was very different but also…very familiar. It wasn’t until his eyes fell upon the wooden mezuzah beside him that the fear finally settled in.
”Honey, are you home?”
Marvin’s blood ran cold when he heard his wife’s sickeningly sweet voice call out from deeper within. He could only hope that she thought it was Mendel at the door, but something about the all too familiar lilt in her voice told him otherwise. Despite this, something compelled him to continue into the house towards the kitchen where Trina was carelessly making dinner. Marvin could feel his palms start to get uncomfortably clammy and a gut-wrenching feeling building that he hated all too much - sensations he’d never miss at all. And when Trina spun around to greet him, sporting that overly fond look that made his head spin and heart pound in all the wrong ways, he wished he couldn’t remember any of it at all.
“Sorry, Marvin, but dinner will just be in a bit. But I could prepare some tea in the meantime,” Trina dusted her hands on the front of her apron, smiling sweetly at him as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. When she went to peck him on the cheek, Marvin could feel the sickening pit in his stomach grow significantly larger.
He thought he’d yell at her, push her away, spite her and tell her how much of a failure of a wife she was for not having dinner on time.
But all he wanted at that moment was to get out. Be out.
Out of this room, out of this house, and back into his car to drive away.
Away to his real house, his real lover.
But yet he stayed, stuck in her kitchen with his feet practically bolted to the ground. The powerlessness and lack of control felt so paralyzing, suffocating him further.
Why was he here?
Marvin started to panic.
Why couldn’t he move?
“Where’s…” Marvin panted out.
Why couldn’t he breathe?
“Where’s Whizzer?”
“Whizzer?” Trina furrowed her brows in confusion as she played with her ring. Marvin couldn’t bear to see it again. “Like your friend, Whizzer Brown?” She mused, and Marvin could see his vision start to blur. All he could do was nod weakly, “I’m not quite sure, darling. You know we aren’t that well-acquainted with each other yet. Maybe you could give him a call to see if he’s home?”
And as if by a miracle, Marvin could move again. So, he immediately jumped on the chance to finally rush out of the kitchen, away from Trina’s nauseating, womanly presence, to the landline mounted on the wall - he distinctly remembered visiting it frequently to call Whizzer everytime Trina was out or asleep. He hastily dialed the number to their apartment, anxiously wrapping the cord around his finger and tugging at it. In the corner of his eye, he could see Trina carrying out their freshly-made dinner to the table, setting it up neatly as she always had before, when they were still together: still okay, still normal. When she was done, he could see her eyeing him cautiously, taking on a worried stance by her seat as he kept trying to find a connection, alas to no avail. His breath started to quicken as fast as the error tone on the phone.
What the fuck was happening? And where was Whizzer?
His fingers trembled as he continued desperately trying to get out of this confusing, terrifying wrench back to his old life - the sick game he thought he was truly well and done with.
The light treading of Trina’s feet were heard as loud as the incessant and aggravating ticking of the clock hanging above Marvin. He tensed as she brushed a soft hand down his shoulder, barely hearing whatever she was saying over the sound of his heart practically beating out of his chest. At one point he could feel his stomach drop and the iciness of his fingertips grow colder as he realized that oh - he was on the floor. The chill only ran further through his entire body as the phone, still hanging off its cord, continued to beep loudly beside his ear. Marvin desperately tried to catch his breath using his entire chest. The nausea was rapidly building up to the point where he just wanted to throw up, or just anything.
No, no, no, no.
“Marvin.”
He clasped his hands over his ears, painfully digging the heels of his palms against his temples. No more.
”Marvin.”
Fat tears rolled down his face, a violent cry rupturing from his throat and puking all over his senses. His fingers yanked at disheveled curls and tugged harshly, pulling and pulling until the pounding in his head grew unbearable.
“Marvin.”
He screamed at the clutch on his arm and thrashed around frantically to escape its incoming embrace. The scorching feeling of compassion and care rotting deep into his skin.
Out now.
He wanted out.
NOW.
“Marvin?”
Marvin scratched at its clothed chest, pushing against it ferociously and wishing its ribs would crack and shatter all over his arms. Decorate it a pretty mess. Just like him. But he wasn’t pretty. He just wanted the red to spill all over him and hold him - a horrible, awful mess. Engulf him enough to drown him in its horrific, comforting depths where there was no seizure to be had. Not a giddy moment to last.
Not anymore.
The arms that held him tightly drew one of its hands to play with the beautiful, scruffy mess on Marvin’s head. He could feel it scratch his scalp oh so lovingly, and Marvin wanted to die. The moment was so beautiful it made him want to die. He’d be happy to die right then and there. He’d be happy to die in fear’s comforting embrace. He’d be happy to die with-
“Marvin, baby. Shhh. It’s okay.”
When Marvin looked up from the little nook he was tucked in, he didn’t see the smiling face of a woman he couldn’t love. Instead, warm, loving brown eyes met his own dull, dingy blue, and all comfort he felt in that moment instantly dissolved, now replaced with pure embarrassment. Marvin quickly scrambled out of his lover’s arms until his back slammed into something short and solid. He looked down and realized that he wasn’t on the floor anymore.
How did he get on the couch?