Note: Happy Pride Month, everybody!!! ❤️🥳🏳️‍🌈

Just like with the character art, something else I wanted to include that fit well timewise was Marshall's coming out story to Brad. This was something I'd thought about a lot when writing Pretty Boy; but because their friendship was already established and this was a before-the-story-started type of thing, I never added it. That being the case, this chapter actually means a great deal to me.

As someone who openly identifies as Bisexual and has had to come out multiple times for several reasons, I have firsthand experience—in terms of going through emotional and mental hurdles when considering being open about who I really am. I feel a bit...validated...and heard...by putting this chapter out. It opens the floor to show others who haven't gone through this what it's like to actually do so.

So, just to be mindful: Marshall will be open about the stigma and ostracization he's forced to go through from his family members. It won't be the most detailed explanation, but it won't be a censored, sugarcoated version either. Viewer discretion is advised.

***

Slender hands fiddled with the rough fabric of an overnight backpack hanging off of one shoulder.

Long, muscular legs hidden beneath a pair of comfortable sweats took slow strides up a set of wooden stairs.

Golden eyes peered up at a familiar house surrounded by thriving plant life. A quick glance to the left revealed a small pond sitting in the back of the property beneath several tall trees. Leaves connected to swaying branches released their flimsy grasps before lightly smacking into closed windows. The reflection of a gray sky made the house's color scheme of dark green, blue, and purple appear a little more saturated than normal.

Upon walking across a wide porch, a single gulp was taken.

After knocking, both hands took an even tighter hold on the backpack's strap. 

Marshall knew if he was still human, his heart would be racing right now.

He did his best to shield his anxiety and inner turmoil when approaching footsteps from inside became louder.

Brad opened the door with a wide, delighted smile; and having his curls tied up in a small bun made it easy to see pure excitement in his kind hazel eyes. "Hey, you made it! Oh- I'm so excited for our first sleepover together. Come in, come in!"

Marshall allowed himself to be pulled inside without issue. The front door was closed behind him, and his belongings were taken to be placed upstairs. 

Knowing the layout of his friend's house, the vampire took his shoes off by the front door before walking further inside. He passed by a small kitchen on his left and a set of stairs and closet to his right. Teal colored walls housing several pictures were momentarily glanced over. It only took about twelve steps to reach an open living room space. 

A plethora of sweet and salty snacks were placed along a short, wooden coffee table. A similar entertainment center with different consoles had a long flat screen standing on top of it. The white interior of a fluffy orange comforter popped against the navy hue of an L-shaped sofa.

Golden eyes were looking down at Brad's vintage record player as he practically skipped into the room.

Marshall tried not to jump when two hands clapped against both of his shoulders. He was pulled into a soft hug from behind.

"I really am glad you came over, man. Been a little bit since we were able to hang outside of work." Brad's grip tightened by a small margin. "I just finished making some Sangria. I know we're ordering in later, but I also made us some Gambas al Ajillo to get things started. Do you want that now or in a bit?"

"Uh, in a bit. Just kinda want to build up my appetite a little."

"Sure, sure."

Brad released his hold to make his way further into the room. He sat down on one of the center couch cushions, crossing his legs.

Marshall continued to stand by the doorway, rubbing his palms against his thighs out of habit.

His choice of not sitting down was noticed immediately.

"You okay?"

Trembling fingers clenched against each other. "I know I just got here and we've barely settled in, but I- I have something I want to talk to you about. Or tell you, rather. It...means a lot to me. And so do you. And since we're finally having a sleepover, I think it's safe to assume our relationship is growing. So...I don't know. I figured I'd bring it up. Possibly."

Brad nodded his head in understanding. His posture remained lax as he leaned his elbows against his knees. A small smile was a silent beckoning for Marshall to take the floor to speak.

He clenched his jaw. The inside of a plump bottom lip was brought between his teeth. Uncomfortable twisting in his stomach forced his shoulders to climb upward, settling closer to his ears.

He really didn't expect for genuine fear to wash over him so fiercely. Or so quickly.

"I don't really know how to lead into this, so...I guess I'll just say it."

"Take your time. There's no rush."

Another gulp distracted him from an unwanted tightness building in his throat. 

"I-I'm not..." Golden eyes looked to the floor. "...I'm not...straight. I...like men. And women. Any and everyone in between too. I don't really have a preference, so..."

Brad blinked. "So you're...Pansexual?"

Marshall opened his mouth to reply. His words got caught in his throat, however, and he found it difficult to continue speaking.

"Uh...yeah. I'm- I'm Pan."

Brad took in his friend's overall form with a quick sweep of the eyes. A light chuckle followed the action. "Okay..? Está bien. I'm happy for you. That you feel comfortable enough to tell me."

"You don't-" A tight knot became more dense, forcing Marshall to realize how close he was to crying. "You're just...okay with that? You don't see me as a bad person?"

"See you as a bad person? Marsh- of course not. Your sexuality isn't anything to be ashamed of. Yeah, you're Pan. That doesn't change anything. You're still the same person you were when you first walked in."

Marshall's only response was a faint quivering of his chin.

Brad's carefree attitude vanished at the sight. "¿Quién dijo que ser Pan era algo malo? Who said you being yourself was wrong?"

Building tears finally fell. "My entire family."

"All of them?"

Marshall nodded.

"And...you were afraid I was going to react the same way?"

He answered in the same manner, albeit slower than the first—like he was scared of being honest.

"...Mierda."

Instinct screamed for Marshall to run away; to hide. He didn't want to be seen in such a vulnerable state. Because, if he ever was in front of the Cullens, his feelings were either rejected, ridiculed, or just plain ignored. Every time Marshall tried to be open about himself, he was always reminded why it was better to not say anything to his family members at all. 

It was because of them—and their inability to be a coven who loved him unconditionally—which led to Marshall being terrified of even looking at his friend right now.

Brad got up. Without a word, he grabbed a pair of freezing hands in his own without so much as a flinch in regard to the temperature difference.

Together, they walked back toward the sofa and sat close.

Warm fingertips brushed away thick tears. Connected palms settled on either side of Marshall's face.

He found himself unable to move as he was pulled forward, and a chaste kiss was pressed against his forehead.

That...wasn't the reaction he was expecting.

"What have they done to you to make you so scared? What have they said?" Brad pressed.

Marshall held back a whimper. "The same fucked up spiel people like them love to give. That it's unnatural. That it's wrong. That...there must be something wrong with me to be attracted to anyone who isn't a woman. And it- it's hammered into my fucking head on a daily basis. It's hard to not get scared to be open about it when I'm constantly being told I'm fucked up for something I have no control over."

The hold on his face became slightly more desperate. "Listen to me, okay? The ones who are being fucked up are your family members. Los malditos cabrones. You don't deserve the bullshit they're giving you; and, personally, I think you'd be better off without having them in your life. But that's not my call to make. What is my call to make is giving you a safe space whenever you need it. Whenever you need to get away."

A...safe space?

Did those truly exist?

Fabled support systems weren't something Marshall was ever able to find. Not in his original family—minus his father—and not in his current one either. More often than not, if he ever told past comrades about his orientation, their reactions were usually the same.

Judgmental.

What Brad was offering...it didn't seem real.

Then again, receiving swift acceptance didn't seem real either.

Marshall was used to suffering alone and in silence.

To be able to have at least one person there for him...

He couldn't even imagine the weight that'd be lifted from his shoulders.

"I know it may not be the answer to all your problems, but my door is always open for you if you need it. If you ever need to get away from your family, you can always come stay here with me. And I can be the family you actually deserve to have."

Soft sniffles were backed by choked sobs as Marshall was pulled into another hug. He buried his hands in the fabric of a plaid flannel. Neither of them reacted to splotches of wetness seeping into it.

"You deserve so much better than the pain they've given you," Brad whispered.

His statement was simple; but the emotional weight behind it made Marshall's walls come crashing down all at once.

He...could finally breathe.

He had a place where he could finally live his honest truth.

And the only thing he could be, in that moment, was grateful.

"Thank you."