A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm sorry for this chapter being up late. I posted an announcement a few days ago about my upload schedule for this month. If you missed it, simply put, uploads for PB:TLC might slow down a little bit until mid to late September. I'm currently working on a pretty serious project for a contest on the NA Romance profile, and the deadline is on the 23rd. Once I'm finished with it (seeing as I'm already half done), uploads for this book will go back to normal 👍

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Trigger Warning: implied domestic violence

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Note: This chapter is something I've thought a lot about ever since "The Betrayal" was written. It was a really heavy chapter packed with a lot of hostility from Marshall. And while seeing him overwhelmed by that anger in front of the Cullens is a common sight, I never went into how those emotions followed him after he walked away from the argument. So this part is going to be a bit of an in-depth look on how Marshall's rage towards his family causes him to lose himself, even when he's in the comfort of his own home around someone who usually helps to keep him calm. Some additional character lore not present in the original Pretty Boy will be sprinkled in here too.

Also, to change things up a little bit for extra character analysis, this part will be done in Paul's POV! 

Now then, let's begin!

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A controller was held tightly in Paul's hands. Dampness formed against the skin pressed against smooth plastic. Random vibrations ran along his palms. His fingers were quick in hitting specific buttons to make sure certain commands were executed properly.

Brown eyes narrowed in concentration, brows furrowed.

The television flashed a bright blue 'victory' on his side of the screen, whereas a dim 'failure' appeared on Jared's side.

An excited cheer happened in concurrence with a devastated groan.

"Looks like you're paying for dinner, loser."

"This is so stupid- I paid last time!"

"Yeah, well, I did it the time before that. We agreed that whoever lost this round was going to cover it tonight. It's not my fault you suck ass at this game. Maybe don't button mash next time, dickwad."

"Fuckface."

"Asshat."

"Bitch!"

Paul rolled his eyes, smirking. "Oh, real creative. Haven't heard that one before."

Jared tossed his controller onto the couch cushion beside him. He slunk back into a mound of cozy pillows. Muttering to himself, he pulled his phone out to scroll through the food delivery app as expected.

Paul was in the middle of choosing a different game when a familiar aroma of sweet copper invaded his nostrils. His gaze stayed on the television, so he had to rely on his ears to paint a picture of what was going on behind him.

Jingling keys smacked against the door before it was pushed open. Combat boots were unzipped and unlaced. They made a loud thunking noise when being put on the metal rack. A similar sound followed alongside chains rubbing against leather, most likely because a certain jacket had been hung up. Keys were then tossed into a decorative bowl to keep them from getting lost.

"Hey, Marshmallow."

The front door slamming shut was enough to make Paul and Jared freeze.

"Hey."

Marshall continued past them without another word.

Hands were pulled into tight fists. Shoulders were settled closer to his ears. A firm clenching of the jaw made the natural angling of his face more pronounced than normal.

Golden eyes were harsh, menacing, and downright furious.

Fast steps were taken up the stairs. One of the doors on the second floor was pulled open and banged shut. Quick pacing above was only drowned out as loud, heavy rock music began blaring from a Bluetooth speaker.

Marshall's obvious anger caused uncomfortable tension to linger in his wake.

"...I know I'm the one who has to pay for the food anyway, but I think it'd be better for me to go pick it up myself instead of ordering delivery."

Paul sighed, putting his remote down. "That might be for the best. It'll probably give me some time to talk to Marsh. See if I can calm him down and stuff like that."

"Hmm..." Jared glanced toward the ceiling. "What do you think happened?"

"He told me he had to stop by his old house to talk to the Cullens now that they're back in Forks. Seeing how mad he is, chances are they got into another bad fight."

"Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. It's always some type of bullshit with them."

Shaking his head, Jared collected his belongings. A pair of running shoes were put on, and he exited the house as quietly as possible to not accidentally set anyone off.

Paul was grateful for the gesture because even he was beginning to feel jagged claws of rage digging into his stomach.

Why in the hell did the Cullens even come back? It was common knowledge that the family packed up their belongings to settle elsewhere with no motive of returning. Without them, life, for the pack and for Marshall, was a lot less stressful. There wasn't a constant headache lingering around the corner—or across the treaty line in their case—waiting to stir up trouble for the hell of it. An ever present need to remain watchful of those untrustworthy leeches vanished once they abandoned ship.

They hadn't even been back a full day, yet Marshall looked like he was ready to slaughter someone due to their crazed antics.

Truthfully, Paul didn't agree with his boyfriend going back to meet up with his coven in the first place. They didn't have the right to try and reform their relationship after abandoning a member of their family without hesitation. All the Cullens ever did was take and take and take without remorse, uncaring of who got hurt in the process. They didn't deserve to have a precious gem like Marshall amongst them.

But it wasn't Paul's decision to make.

He may not have agreed with the sentiment, but he thought it was Marshall's right to pursue whatever he wanted.

It was just saddening to see it in real time—how his nature of giving second chances was thrown into his face along with several knives being hurled into his back.

Picking up his cracked pieces was going to be difficult.

"God- would you learn to pick up your shit, Paul!"

Yeah. Difficult, indeed.

"Huh? What shit?" he asked, walking up the stairs in confusion. 

He stopped short at the top landing. 

Marshall was seen, arms crossed over his chest, in the doorway leading into the bathroom. His face was still adorning an agitated, scrunched up expression. A separated pair of black socks dangled from one of his hands.

"Your fucking dirty clothes! When you're done in the bath, you get rid of your laundry! That's what the damn bin is for! It's not that fucking hard!"

He stomped into the bathroom, literally throwing the socks into the hamper.

Hefty footsteps were taken back to the bedroom across the hall.

Paul couldn't help but roll his eyes in growing frustration.

Marshall was a bit of a clean freak when it came to their shared space. It wasn't a bad thing, of course; he just had the tendency to flip out about small issues when he was already upset about something. Granted, he was right about Paul putting his dirty laundry where it belonged. Getting the point across in such an aggressive manner, however, was the one thing he didn't agree with.

There really wasn't a concrete manner of going about this—attempting to bring Marshall's anger down.

The vampire hadn't been this enraged in a very, very long time.

He was like a ticking time bomb with exposed wires. Cutting the wrong one would result in a terrible, damaging explosion.

Something Paul really wanted to avoid.

Taking a deep breath was essential, the action grounding him before walking into their bedroom. "Honey, did, uh, did something happen?"

"What do you think?"

"Um, well, do you want to talk about it?"

"You seemed more preoccupied with the t.v. when I walked in, so how about you go continue with your little games since those are so important."

"Babe-"

"Or, better yet, you're having a sleepover with Jared once he comes back, right? Good. You can join him on the couch downstairs to not deal with my bullshit. Wouldn't want to ruin your perfect night."

Paul frowned, understanding good and well the tactic Marshall was employing.

He was using his anger to try and push his support pillar away, more so out of fear of saying something worse if his feelings continued to escalate. Unfortunately, they usually did the longer he was left to fester in his own suffocating emotions.

He may have been acting like he didn't want it, but Marshall's cruel words only screamed how much he needed help.

Paul was trying to force down his own rising temper because he knew getting upset would make things worse.

It was just really hard to not react when being spoken to in that blatantly disrespectful way.

"Babe, I know what you're doing."

Marshall stood up from the bed, mockingly cupping his face in his hands. "Oh, really? Wow, you must be so smart. Tell me, can you use that brain of yours to make your mouth stop moving and to leave me the fuck alone? Because that'd be great."

Steadying breaths were unable to alleviate fiery heat spreading throughout Paul's body .

Fists clenched tightly enough to make his hands shake.

"Marsh, you really need to calm down."

A daring, challenging step was taken forward. "Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do if I don't?!"

Paul flinched, his eyes widening.

What was he going to do?

What kind of question was that?

What the hell had gone on with those damned Cullens for Marshall to expect retaliation at a time like this? Did they really cause enough pain in such a horrific manner for him to anticipate some sort of punishment while in a distressed moment of weakness? What kind of screwed up methods did they use to force him into submission when all he required, truly and honestly, was an ear to listen?

"Baby- what- why would I do something?"

Marshall appeared to remember just exactly where he was and who he was talking to because he took a step back. His arms wrapped around his midsection, hiding his body away from prying eyes. His gaze settled onto the wooden planks beneath their feet.

"Forget it-"

"No. Marsh, why in the hell would you expect me to do something to you for making me upset-"

"Because that's what everyone else does!" Marshall yelled, his hands knotting into the fabric of his shirt. "...That's what my mom always did. That's what Rose always did. That's what my so-called family always did. I said something they didn't like, and I got hurt for it."

Fury began to heighten, reaching dangerous territory, for a different reason.

"...Hurt in what way?"

"It- it doesn't matter. Really- it was my fault. I was the one who fucked up. Just like I am right now. I get it if you-"

"No- no- stop it right fucking there and look at me, Marshall." Paul gently grabbed his boyfriend's face to make their eyes meet. "Listen to me. You aren't with that shitty ass family anymore. You aren't with that woman anymore. You're here with me, and I would never, ever do something like that to you. Yeah, you pissed me off. Big whoop. That doesn't mean you should be a fucking punching bag, literally or figuratively, if it means making someone else feel better. That's fucked up, Marsh, and you don't deserve that."

"...I don't..?"

"You don't."

Paul honestly meant that.

If there was one person in the world who didn't deserve all the pain bestowed on him, it was Marshall.

He was a giver; someone who had difficulty saying no to those he cared for; someone who attempted to help those he loved by any means necessary; someone who suffered in silence, his inner wounds gushing and bleeding, as he stepped up to the plate with a radiant smile; someone whose bright, shining armor seemed flawless while the body beneath was littered with scars.

Marshall had his pure, beautiful heart shattered enough times for fear to keep him tethered to a cage. 

No matter how much distance he put between himself and that prison, there were always invisible shackles pulling him right back when he least expected it.

There was no telling how long those chains would remain intact.

But Paul wasn't going to stand by and just watch it happen—not when he had the key to help free his lover from torment.

Just as Marshall tried to accomplish for everyone else, Paul was going to do everything he could to keep his imprint safe, secure, and smiling.

He was going to do whatever he could to make years worth of pain fade away.

"Hey, come here..."

Paul opened his arms for a hug. As a smaller body slotted against his own, his arms wrapped around it. His cheek rested against black waves. A series of soft, gentle kisses were placed against his boyfriend's scalp. Delicate rubs traveled along his body to soothe an invisible ache.

Hugging it out wasn't much, but it was a start in their journey of moving forward.

"Do you think you can tell me what happened, honey? What did they do to make you so upset?"

Marshall deflated. He hid his face by looking down, bracing his forehead atop a beating heart.

"...Bella outed me. And so did Rosalie."

Paul felt his mouth go dry, stunned. "W-what..?"

"...We met up at the house because we were discussing Bella's transition from mortal to immortal. She wanted us to vote on whether she'd go through with it or not. I pretty much told her nothing would change and she'd still be everyone else's problem, regardless of what her species is. I guess she didn't like that because, next thing I knew, she told my family everything. Me spending time in La Push, being part of the pack, being with you.

"But what made things worse was the fact that Rose- I accidentally told her a little while ago that I'm in love with you. I knew the family wouldn't tolerate my feelings, so I asked her to not say anything. She promised not to- which turned out to be a colossal fucking lie.

"I wasn't ready for the family to know any of that. I wanted to tell them when the time was right. When I was prepared to do so. But they found out everything from other people, and, in the end, all I got was judgment from all sides. All I got were looks of disgust and people bashing our relationship and not a single fucking apology. For anything."

Gentle fingertips glided along Marshall's spine to ease his trembles. It was unclear if they were from vexation or sorrow.

"So...now they know?"

"Yeah. Now- now they know."

Paul wished he could say it was a relief for their secret to be out in the open—but he couldn't. Not when it didn't happen on their terms. Not when something which should've been seen as a good thing was met with ostracization. Not when Marshall was, once again, thrown under the bus for being in a relationship deemed unnatural, both because of their gender and their differences in species.

Any desire to interact with Bella after today was thrown out the window.

Any desire to try and play nice with the Cullens disappeared.

To hell with all of them if they were going to continue to act like prejudiced assholes.

"...What're we going to do now?"

"Nothing." Marshall glanced up, planting one of his hands onto his partner's chest. "I have no plans on seeing or talking to any of them for the time being. I'm creating some distance. Making boundaries. I think that's the best I can do for myself right now. The things that happened- the things they said- it...really hurt. I don't want to go back to that."

Paul brushed his thumb along soft lips. "You don't have to. If you want to stay away, do it. You're in the right considering all the shit they put you through."

"Hmm..." Ashamed, golden eyes moved to look elsewhere. "I'm sorry, Tiger. For being so rude and saying all that stuff. I shouldn't have done that."

"I know, honey. I'll admit, I was upset, but I know you didn't mean it. More than anything, I'm mad for you. I'm mad at your family for being a bunch of dickheads. I didn't mean to nag you or make you feel worse. I'm sorry too."

Both men leaned forward to meet for a brief, tender kiss.

Paul's heart still fluttered in his chest at the fleeting contact.

"Hey, when Jared comes back, how about you join us downstairs? Maybe you can kick his ass at a couple games with me."

Although still overwhelmed with negative emotions, Marshall put forward a small, genuine grin. "Sure thing, love."