Wait, what? Me and Eminem?! (An Eminem Fan-Fiction) *Completed*

Chapter Fifty Seven

Hey, Marshall minions! Unfortunately, this is the last chapter in our fan fiction installment. ): I feel so attached to this story because even when I was going through a rough time, all you wonderful fans were always waiting on Wattpad for me and I appreciate that more than you know. While this chapter is the end of the story, we don't necessarily have to end the story here, because I've been thinking about a really short sequel, that's not more than a few chapters, but still better than nothing. The song on the side is somewhat relevant to the chapter and I thought it would be a good note to end on, and the gif on the side is of Eminem walking away, to symbolize the end of the story. I have a lot more issues to speak to you all about but I know you must be dying to read, so I'll let you do that, but make sure to read the author's note at the end, it's very important!

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Marshall dropped me off at my place uneventfully after our ice cream date with a tight hug and a kiss, and even though we hadn't talked about Dev in days, he asked me to let him know how he was doing once I knew myself. I gave him my word and found warmth in my house after shutting the front door and sinking down in the living room after changing. I was able to unwind in my chair knowing that my best friend was no longer angry at me, my other best friend would be able to live the rest of his life. Despite Marshall's departure soon, a sudden unexplainable emotion was awakened within me,  and because of it, I knew that Marshall's feelings and my own wouldn't be changing soon. He was a man of habit, this I knew, and it was easy to tell as well. His recognizable Kangol hats and hoodies were an unmistakable mark of how he grew to fit the ebb and flow of a pattern like a glove, and I loved him for that. I was unaccustomed to change myself and I preferred the steady continuation of something good rather than the jumpy breaks of good and bad, mad and sad, and we matched up that way, thankfully. For the first time in months, I was able to exhale completely, and no extra tension was on my chest. Despite my lack of faith, the best way I could describe the ecstatic feeling was that of feeling blessed. I was beginning to be able to recognize true   happiness once more, in the aftermath of what could have been even more tragic than it was, and for that, I was thankful.

Now that I knew exactly what I planned on doing with my future, work was a breeze and motivation was no longer something that didn't come by easily. I prospered in the work place and something new had been ignited in me: desire. Not the desire for Marshall but the desire for success. Before, it had been a mere want, I'd wanted to pursue a successful future, but now, there was a persistant ache to be successful in the marrow of my bones and it was absolutely unignorable. I love the feeling of desire; it is perhaps my favorite feeling.

Days flew by and before I knew it, winter was embracing the tiny town of Warren with its frigid arms and it became the day of Marshall's tour trip before anyone knew it. He'd called me the night before just to talk as he usually did every night, but this time, before he hung up, there was silence on the phone, and neither of us could predict who would be the first to break it.

"You're leaving tomorrow," I said casually, with no tone in my voice, shattering the quiet.

"Yeah. Which is why I was wondering if you could come over tomorrow early morning. I've got everything packed and set and everything is going according to plan so far, but the girls just want to spend some time with the both of us before I go away. Does that sound okay with you?"

"Of course, I'd love to," I assured him, smiling. Even though tomorrow was a Wednesday, I'd spoken to Mr. Rizzo about this weeks in advance, and he knew to expect my absence.

"Great," he answered with a light chuckle, and I could just envision his lips curling into a pleased smile. "We should both get to bed now, it's getting late and I'd hate to keep you up."

I knew him well enough to know that when he pulled out a line like that, it meant he was struggling to keep his eyes open. "I know you're tired," I let him know with a small chuckle that echoed his own. "Let's go to bed, baby."