#marilyndoves

It had been a long-ass day. Between Kelly and Chad and Carter and Chris, Cam felt like he had been pulled a million different ways. Why did everyone he loves get hurt at the same time? It didn’t make sense, unless the universe was looking to spit in his cereal that day. All he knew was that he needed something, anything to tell him that everything was going to be okay. He knew that physically, both Kelly and Carter would be fine, but what about the scars people couldn’t see? The scars of which Cam had plenty, his entire mind littered with them, just as his body was littered with physical ones. He was taking the long way home, walking quietly through the darkened streets, looking around at the buildings that seemed like skyscrapers that night (though they were nothing compared to real skyscrapers), and catching, out of the corner of his eye, a green light.

Turning his head to see what it was, it was a phone charger shining through the half-opened blinds, in the apartment of none other than Marilyn Dove. Figures. What a fucking cliche, a green-fucking-light, like I’m Jay Gatsby. As he looked up at the window, however, and he saw Marilyn tucking her brown curls behind her ear as she worked, and he saw the way that she focused so deeply on what she was reading, the reason he loved her—the reason he had always loved her—came back to hit him, full force. That was why, before he could even think about what he was doing, he was picking up a pebble from the street and throwing it so that it hit her window. “Hey! Mari, look down here!” he yelled as loudly as he dared, not wanting to wake anyone up. “Mari!”