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I have a plan.
You see, my favorite peasant, Marcus, works with vehicles. Because of his upbringing, he couldn't really afford maintenance when it came to his motorcycle. Besides, he's always preferred to work on it himself because he didn't trust anyone with his only form of transportation.
Don't ask why I know that. I just do.
Anyway, my own car is having trouble of its own. It's making this weird sound. When I had that brute Jude take a look at it, he told me to get it checked out. He all but volunteered to take it, actually.
But I've got to fight my own battles. Even if it's only a car. And no, this has nothing to do with Marcus’ stupid words during that one game.
So, I am going to a mechanic. Just not the traditional one Jude was probably talking about. No, I'm going to Marcus Osborn as revenge.
His apartment is in a different town, but I don't mind the longer drive. Knowing him, he probably won't show any emotion when I pull into the driveway. But also knowing him, I know his left eye and the corner of his mouth will twitch. It's all the reaction I'll get, but it's still a reaction.
“Marcus,” I roll my windows down and give him my best fake smile.
He looks up from where he's working on his bike. And as I predicted, his eye twitches twice. But a smirk appears on his face a few seconds later. He gets out from under his bike and leans on it.
“My prince. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He says slowly.
Now it's my turn to be pissed. I sigh, and step out of my car. I tap the hood twice, “I need it fixed.”
Marcus looks me up and down, and I just want to go back into my car and drive away. But i dont. Because that would mean I'm running away, and I don't do that anymore.
“Hello? Earth to Osborn. I know I'm a one of a kind beauty but there's no need to gawk.” I shrug, moving to the side. Marcus’ eyes follow me, his grin widening.
“Oh? A one of a kind beauty?” He licks his lips. He seems to do that often around me.
“Yeah. One of a kind. Don't be salty because people prefer me over you.”
“Mhm? Like your almost girlfriend that preferred my dick?” He says mockingly. The prick. He really doesn't know when to shut his mouth does he? And people say I'm annoying.
“That doesn't count,” I say, stepping up towards him. “She was obviously mental. No other sane person would prefer your slop over my perfection.” I point towards my car before he can spout anymore of his nonsense. “So, Osborn, fix my car.”
I expect him to retaliate, to question me about what gives me the right to demand things from him. I wait and wait, but the words just never come out of his gorgeous lips.
That's what people say at least.
That he's infuriatingly gorgeous.
“Your turn to gawk, hmm armstrong?” He chuckles, moving past me to take a look at my car. He lifts up the front and leans against it, using the towel draped around his neck to wipe off some grime on his cheek.
“Huh?” I ask like an idiot, too caught up in the calamity that is Marcus Osborn.
He doesn't reply, instead examining my car. “What's wrong with it?” He asks, reaching between the parts. He obviously knows what the problem is already, considering how he's already working on it. He's probably asking me because-.. Because what? I can't come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Marcus would ask me a question he already knows the answer to..
It's to get under my skin.
Yup. That's it.
“It's making this weird sound. Big man said it should get fixed before I end up crashing.” As the words come out of my mouth, Marcus’ head quickly lifts up, his eyes locking with mine. His greyish brown eyes narrow, and I swear his eye twitches.
“Big man?” He asks quietly. His hands clench around the wrench hes holding so hard his bruised knuckles turn white.
“..Yeah? Jude? My best friend?" I raise a brow, “Have you been living under a rock Osborn? Wait, don't answer that. Of course you have been. Who decides to live in a remote apartment anyway when you could be closer to your teammates and ice rink? Maybe that's why your performance is dulling-”
“My performance is not dulling, and neither is my teams. The wolves have better performance than the vipers at least. Maybe that is why you guys are beneath us, my prince. Besides, I live here because its closer to my mother. Not that I owe you an explanation or anything.” He scoffs, turning back towards his work.
I could swear the tension rolled off his back the moment he heard that big man was Jude, but I just might be hallucinating. That's what alcohol and drugs do to a person, no? Doesn't matter. I cant have him diss my bros like that.
“Ill have you know that we’re actually super amazing and practically unbeatable. Your little wolves just got lucky that one time.”
“Mhm. And what about the time after that?”
I forget to reply to his question because the moment my lips part, a sweat bead rolls down from his neck onto his chest. Then lower. And lower. And..
Fuck.
I shake my head, trying to bring back some sense into this stupid brain. But then again, I haven't ever been huge on logic. Still, these types of thoughts shouldn't be intruding. Especially not when theyre related to Marcus fucking Osborn.
“You got lucky,” I finally say. Marcus’ eyebrows furrow as he focuses on a specific area of the car.
Eventually- like the attention whore I am- I get bored. So what do I do you might ask?
Climb on top of my car and yap endlessly is the correct answer.
While Marcus is busy moving from his materials on the ground to my car, I climb up and lay down on the hood. Marcus notices the extra weight on the car, probably because it shifted downward, and slowly looks up.
Our eyes meet again, and now it's my turn to smirk.
“So, when did you first learn how to take care of vehicles?” I ask in an attempt to distract myself from his skin. Did I ever mention his shirt was off?
“when i first got my motorcycle."
“Which waaas?”
“16 years old.”
“Hmm. So its precious to you?” My mind is already ti king with ways I could use this against him.
“You could say that, yeah. Why?” He asks, pooping some oily liquid onto the metal.
I watch as it slips through his fingers and drips slowly. “Can't I want to get to know you, Marcus?”
“Oh please, we both know you have ulterior motives, my prince.”
“I've told you repeatedly not to call me that.” As the words exit my mouth, I direct a glare towards him.
“And I told you repeatedly I do not care.”
Ugh, the prick. Can't he let me have my way once?
I turn so that I'm staring up at the sky. It's the brightest blue it's been in a while. Probably because I'm in a completely different town, but who cares. I wonder what falling through would be like—
“Armstrong.” I almost flinch as Marcus’ voice reaches my ear. His tone is a clear indicator hes called my name more than once. “Have you fallen asleep up there?”
“Obviously not.” I shake my head and quickly sit up. I hop off the roof of the car, and turn back towards Marcus. He closes the hood and dusts off his hands.
“Yeah, because you only sleep on silk sheets and beds made of gold.” He scoffs, the grin still plastered on his face.
Fuck him and his unshakableness.
I'll crack him one day.
Instead of voicing my opposition at his existence, I simply shrug and place a hand on my hip.
“Is it fixed?”
“Why don't you see for yourself? Preferably away from my home.”
I roll my eyes and get into the driving seat. “Who the fuck even gave you a license?” He mutters under his breath.
“The driving instructor, obviously. Besides, I think you forgot my last name, Osborn. It gets me places.’
He chuckles, taps on the hood twice, and turns back to his motorcycle. I could swear I saw him smile like a maniac, but maybe I'm just seeing things again.
I really don't want to take my pills.
Oh well, that's a problem for another day. I pull out of his driveway and wave goodbye, one finger at a time.
It's actually working. The car isn't making those horrid sounds.
_______
At the curve of the hill, I hear it again. A sound coming from my engine. But.. It's worse. Way worse than before.
My car starts to shake and I can feel something beneath my tires. What the fuck?
Before I can have second thoughts, a loud BAM echoes through my car as the front bursts into flames. The shock makes me twist the wheel too far left, shoving my car down the cliff.
Ringing takes over my body, and everything begins to blur. It's all in slow motion.
I look down towards my phone to see a few missed calls from Kane and Jude. That isn't what catches my attention, though. It's the text from an unknown number, but I know exactly who it is.
“Like your new car adjustments?” It reads.
That little fuck. I groan, taking a hand to my head.
I quickly try to get out of my car.One second I'm trying to open the door, the next I feel gigantic hands gripping my shoulder. Jude.
I relax against him as my vision fades to black.
_____
Two weeks later, and all my injuries healed up nicely, thanks to Jude and Kane's remedies and food. During that time, big man brought me a new car. A sleek black Mercedes.
During that time I've also devised a plan.
Since that bastard Marcus blew up my dear car, I've decided to blow up something of his as well.
The problem? I need to find a time in which he isn't near that motorcycle. It's a fair deal, a car for a bike. Honestly, I should be glad I even managed to provoke him. Why else would he blow up my car?
I'm usually too ‘lazy’ to do anything extra, but it's different with Osborn. I need to do it myself. Alone.
I found his schedule. Turns out, he only leaves his motorcycle when he goes to visit his mother because she gets worried about him using it.
Sometimes I get envious of his relationship with her.
Then I remember what the Osborns put them through, and it all fades away.
So, ive skipped my classes- which isn't anything new- and made my way down to the garage where Marcus keeps his bike. I didn't tell anyone, obviously, and maybe that's why Jude is blowing up my phone.
Seriously, you try to kill yourself once and they never let you forget it.
It was more than once.
Shut it, voices.
I sigh, stepping out of the cab and walking up to the garage. I've printed a replica key, so I use that to open it up.
Ah. There it is. His motorcycle wrapped in beautiful metal. I make my way towards it, taking it in.
It's just the kind of thing Marcus would own. It's simple, but still holds power.
And it's his only form of transportation.
I grin as I dig the key into the side of the motorcycle, the metal scratching against the surface. It's been a while since I've finally let go. I repeatedly stab the tires until it physically hurts, the air flowing out until they sag.
I grab a knife I'd brought along with me and slice up the seat, leaving him with my initials.
Let him see who he fucked with and regret it.
I grab the gasoline from a corner of the garage and pour it over the motorcycle. And for the last step of my plan, I take out a lighter and drop it to the ground.
Within seconds, his bike bursts into flames.
I lick my lips and take a picture, sending it into the Vipers group chat. I take multiple photos after that, ignoring the messages from Kane and Jude telling me I've signed my deathbed.
I don't care.
I send him a photo of his motorcycle with the caption of, “like the new adjustments?”
I turn off my phone just as it clicks from delivered to see. Then, I call another cab and get the fuck out of there, smoke filling the garage behind me. The driver doesn't dare question me, probably because of the manic smile on my face.
Marcus Osborn fucked with me first, and now, its my turn to fuck with him.