❝ And that's Marlowe - better known as Mar...❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐞. You rarely catch her without sand-covered skin and dark locks winded up from saltwater. Born and raised on the island, with a house that radiates...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐓hey say anger is the bodyguard of sadness.
Marlowe knows it all too well; the overwhelming feeling of being consumed by so much frustration, so much helplessness, that it dissolves into pure rage. It makes you lash out, squeezing your chest until you feel like the only thing that'll make you breathe again is the sound of something, anything, breaking.
Then, the regret comes. And it washes over you like high waves on shallow ground. Each wave biting cold, sending that familiar, unwelcoming sense of powerlessness straight back.
And that's what she's left with now. Helplessness. Anger. Regret. It's engulfing every cell in her being, making her chest tighten.
Her gaze drifts out the window, focusing on each rhythmic wave beating against the watercraft. Pope has taken a seat by the helm, not uttering a word.
Neither of them is.
After Marlowe had helped him back to the boat, they instinctively settled with the mere art of silence. Such a lack of words, yet so much emotion weighing them down.
"You are not gonna believe what just happened to me, guys!" JJ's eagerness brings a huge contrast to the tension. "Whoo! That was the best hundred bucks I've ever made. When I say count me in on all these grocery deliveries, Pope, I mean it!"
It doesn't take him long to detect the uneasy atmosphere. His blue eyes divert from Pope to the unfazed brunette, who's standing with her back facing him. They didn't even acknowledge his return.
"What's up with you two?" he questions, focus drawing back to Pope. "Bro, you good?" The blond moves closer, catching a glimpse of the aggressive red against his dark skin. "Yo, what happened to your face, dude?"
He lifts Pope's cap, revealing the entirety of the injury.
"Jesus!" he exclaims. Almost immediately, his gaze whips to Marlowe, a flash of worry striking by the thought of this being the reason for her absentness as well.
