Fandom: Corybantic Dance 2
Characters: Marshall Song, Jung Moon Song
Warnings: Argument with parent.
Notes: 7k in 7 days, part 3. Stepping away from Quentin and Mike for a little bit, here. I realised I never write Marshall without Jasper.
Marshall Song just wanted some peace and quiet. It didn’t seem like that much to ask for, until one realised that he lived with two sisters and both his parents — and his mother would not stop shouting at one or more of them, at all times. At the moment, she was after Jo about her grades, last semester. As far as Marshall could tell, Jo was doing a pretty good job, in college. She’d gone in to do some kind of medical research thing, whatever kind of degree that was. MD, maybe, but he really wasn’t sure. Most of that hard science stuff was beyond him, but Jo had been getting ‘A’s and ‘B’s, so far, and that was better than he was likely to do. He just couldn’t see what his mother was so pissed off about, but she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t be satisfied with perfection, so when she came after him, he tried not to take it personally.
His bag of tricks was performing arts and performance art, and sucks to the person who couldn’t tell the difference between them. His portfolio was almost exclusively lighting and makeup, and he dreamed of doing lights on Broadway, someday, with Jasper doing sound. That was the thing, of course, he had to be with Jasper. You didn’t give up your best friend just to get a job, no matter how awesome that job was, because then you’d have nobody to share the power trip with. There’d be nobody to turn to and go, "We rock! Look at us being awesome!" and to Marshall, there was no fun in being awesome by yourself. Well, that and if you got him shitfaced, he’d tell you how much he loved Jasper. But, only if he was really trashed, because Marshall Song was not a sappy guy.
He leaned closer to the mirror, trying not to stab himself in the eye with the eyeliner pencil. In opinions other than his own, Marshall was a minor miracle with faces, and his own was no exception. No one could look so perfectly disarrayed. It took skill to smudge the eyes, just so. And to those who said he looked like he slept in his clothes, well, the secret was that he had. When he could, Marshall got dressed the night before, slept in his clothes, did his makeup, and then went to class. When he couldn’t, he got dressed from the laundry bin. Jasper said he smelled better like that, anyway. And his hair pretty much kept from one day to the next. He washed it on Sunday mornings, heavy on the conditioner, like Quentin taught him, and then sprayed it up, again, on Sunday night. By Saturday, his hair looked like a lacquered headdress. It was the way of things, and with Quentin’s help, he’d learned to do it better. He wondered what else Quentin could teach him, as he touched up the corner of his eye.
"Hwan!" Mrs. Song called up the stairs, "Hwan Song, you come down here where I can talk to you!"
Marshall froze, both eyes focused on the mirror. His mother only called him by his Korean name when she wanted to yell at him — which, now that he thought about it, was most of the time.
"I’m in the bathroom, mom!" He tried to stall another minute or two, just long enough to finish out the smudges and the lavender powder. "I’ll be down in a minute!"
"Your mother is more important than making yourself look like an ugly girl! I thought I had a son, not three daughters!" Mrs. Song shouted. "You take more time than both your sisters together!"
That last may actually have been true, and he’d let her have that point. It took some time to look as good as he always did. Marshall put his makeup back in the black box he kept it in, and went down the stairs. "An ugly girl? Gosh, Ma, I thought I looked like a handsome boy. Like those ones you see in Lily’s magazines," he teased, relying on wit to keep his temper. His younger sister had subscriptions to a couple of Asian magazines for teenage girls — full of the latest androgynous pop stars and the like. He knew at least one of them wasn’t even in Korean, and she was only getting it for the pictures.
"Those men are famous. Famous men can be a little crazy and nobody cares. You? Who are you? You just nobody." Mrs. Song harrumphed. "My son, the nobody. Dressing up like an ugly girl to go out with his American boyfriend. Why can’t you find a nice Korean boy? Nice Korean girl is even better, but you don’t like girls, except to be one."
"Ma, I’m not Quentin. I don’t wear dresses. I wouldn’t look good in them," Marshall protested. "Quentin looks a little too good in them. It’s really kind of creepy, sometimes.
"But, that’s not the point. The point is that you don’t like Jasper. How the hell can you not like Jasper? He’s …" Marshall gesticulated pointlessly, looking for a decent adjective, "…nice! He’s polite, he’s respectful, he gets good grades! What’s not to like? He’s everything you want me to be!"
"He’s not Korean! You should find a nice Korean boy," Mrs. Song was firm on that point. She always was.
"Why does he have to be Korean? It’s not like we’re going to have kids! My line ends here!" Marshall was finally starting to get upset. "Jo’s the oldest of us — shouldn’t you be worried about finding her a nice Korean boy? If you can find someone of any race who isn’t too stupid to keep up with her!"
"It is about respect for your family!"
"I respect my family by not bringing him here, because you don’t like him! Lily thinks he’s nice! Jo always treated him like another brother, when she used to babysit us! Why is it now that you don’t like him? He’s been my best friend for thirteen years. You didn’t have a problem with him until it came out that we might be more than just friends!" Marshall tried very hard not to yell at his mother, but sometimes it just didn’t work. He’d tried to ask his father about how to deal with his mom, but Mr. Song had just laughed, and said it was best to smile and nod until she was done, and then figure out what to do about her point, later. "Dad still likes Jasper, just fine!"
"He does not see it, if he does not like it. His son is going to marry a nice Korean girl one day," Mrs. Song insisted.
In a way, Marshall could believe that about his dad. The guy did seem a little disconnected, sometimes. Of course, if he was married to his mom, he’d be disconnected, too. "I am in love with my best friend. Yes, fine, I’ll look at some nice Korean boys, but I’m in a perfectly good relationship. Would it make you happy if I just met some nice Korean boys? Considered them?"
"It would make me happy if you go out with them. But, you are not going to do that. At least, you will go look. You will see them, and you will know I’m right." Mrs. Song shook her head. "At least, you will go look."
Marshall sighed and gave his mother a hug. "Yeah, Ma, I’ll look. I can do that for you."
"Good. Now, take a shower. You smell."