Chapter Text
How long until you can withstand looking me in the eyes like you used to?
Sejanus blankly scans his written letters, tracing each and every shape with his tired gaze before scrubbing his eraser across it. That was too forward, too angry and too demanding.
As much as he’d yearned for Marcus’s full and warm presence again—he knew pressuring him would get them nowhere. It’d only push him away even further. And Sejanus isn’t sure how much further Marcus can go at this point without falling off of the cliff completely. Down into ice cold waters, down into a pit of darkness that had claimed him already. That had already destroyed him in July.
Sejanus shakes his head and presses his elbows into the hard outline of his desk, leaning forward, as if it’d help his focus.
His eyelids flutter close for a moment, and when he reopens them, he knows what he wants to say.
I want things to be good again.
He’s written a thousand variations of it, in his frequent letters to Marcus. Sometimes it was a paragraph, sometimes it was a sentence. Sometimes it was only three words. But it always trailed back to the same meaning. Even if Sejanus wanted to scrawl the more intense variation, even if he knew how he really felt, he didn’t know if Marcus did, and that was what he would always be afraid of.
He folds the slim white paper and reaches for the tan colored envelope, tucking it inside. Really, he shouldn’t bother marking the address and who it’s directed to. He didn’t need to deliver it to the tiny, square post-office that sat between the furniture and clothing stores when Marcus lived right across the street. He didn’t need to draw the numbers, or linger on the letters that spelt out Marcus’s name. But he does anyway, as if he was worried that he would forget it someday.
He outlines, big and bold in the very center of the sealed envelope:
Marcus Barrett
72209 Aurelius St.
And in the smallest writing he can manage, straining against his light gray ended pencil, he puts in the corner:
Sejanus Plinth
72206 Aurelius St.
They could either be piled up and kicked to the side, unopened, like Sejanus originally imagined, or Marcus throws them in the trash every time they poke from beneath his front door. Sejanus doesn’t mind, doesn’t care either way, he’d keep his stack of paper and envelopes placed on his desk until Marcus came over to dispose of them for himself.
If Sejanus couldn’t speak to him like he used to, this was the only way for him to stay sane. Truly. It was mid-September, nearly a month since that night at the Brutus Bar, since Marcus had beaten another man unconscious in defense of Sejanus. And, still, things remained as awful as they were in July. He must’ve meant it, when he told Sejanus to stay out of his life.
However, sometimes, when Sejanus was leaving for his early classes in the mornings with his pearly white uniform, Marcus would be leaving for work, dressed up and down in stained clothes that didn’t ever seem to deflect the dark musk of the mines, they would step out of their homes at the same time.
His heart would suddenly begin to beat faster, flapping against his ribcage as if it was a wounded, stuck bird. Begging to be free. When he met his eyes, trying to find that boy he still loved and missed more than anything, Sejanus wondered if Marcus’s heart pumped just as strongly for him. He couldn’t tell, he never would be able to, Marcus would break away before he had the chance to figure it out.
He looks up at his window, ankle wrapping around the leg of his wooden chair, gape arrowing straight through the clear glass and onto the top of Marcus’s house, lining out the rugged maroon roof. Eventually, he studies his grass, how its shimmering emerald green color had completely died out. It was now brown, some bits were a pale yellow. But it was unkempt, faded and had lost its original form entirely. He really did see Marcus in everything.
A knock at his door brings him out of his staring. “Sejanus?” he hears Ma say. “Your aunt and cousins are over for dinner. Come down and see them if you’re feeling well enough.”
Sejanus rubs his fingers over his eyelids, gently dragging them into his creases. No matter how much supposed sleep he’d gotten recently, he was never not tired. He was on the verge of fainting out of pure exhaustion in the midst of the day for the past week. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his recurring thoughts of Marcus, school, his taunting dreams, or all three. Probably all, realistically. But something tells him Marcus was the root.
Despite the prickliness that spread over his eyes, he pushed his chair into the empty space beneath his desk and turned for his dresser, changing out of the clothes he’d been rotting in since he woke up, and into more orderly ones. He smooths the front of his top down, wiping away some of the light wrinkles that had curved along the bottom, runs a quick hand through his curls, and steps out of his room.
Before he descends down the stairs, he slips inside of the bathroom to be sure he doesn’t look as dead as he feels. Unfortunately, he’s welcomed with a face that is layered with nothing but gloam. The bags beneath his sunken eyelids have darkened, his skin seemed to look sweatier than usual and his lips have paled. No wonder his classmates had looked at him strangely this morning, he looked like an animated corpse.
He can’t help but think about Marcus again. How Sejanus had gasped at his appearance at the train station once he stepped off. How deterioration had overtaken his once colorful glint, the scar on his cheek, the absolute horror that hung over his shoulders and drug him back home, leaving Sejanus and every last alive piece of himself behind.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise for him. How could someone not come back shattered into nothingness after being forced to kill other children just to survive? Traumatized and left with their own burdens to carry. How could Marcus not look the way he did? A boy who had been pushed through so much already at such a young age? Sejanus would never be able to genuinely understand how he was feeling. He would never have to go through that, ever. All because of Marcus.
He thinks about that at night, when his mind is drifting off into unconsciousness, into another rough sleep. How would he be if he had gone into the Games and survived? How would he have come back? Would he have shut people out—people like Marcus and Ma? The thoughts didn’t go on for long, as he usually just accepted that the guilt would have driven him to suicide.
He could somehow feel that same degree of guilt now, twisting and pulling and ripping at his skin like he was stuck in a pit of barbed wire. He knew it wouldn’t stop until he and Marcus reconnected again, or until he bled out completely.
He splashes enough cold water onto his hot skin to where it’s dripping down his throat, pooling through his thin top. It’d only parted with a small spot of wetness, but he still had to press a clean rag to it, along with his soaked features. Once he hears clattering of dishes and sounds of people talking in the kitchen, he wipes as much away as he can before finally finding the courage to meet with his family at the table.
Dinner had not gone as quickly as he would’ve liked. At the start, it had been quiet, Ma would occasionally ask her sister a question about how her kids were doing in school; who were at the table, too. She also questioned how her bakery was holding up. She answered tamely, then turned to Sejanus and asked how medical school was going.
He replied honestly, saying it was going well, that he liked it a lot. But it was tiring at times. He immediately regrets saying it in front of his father, as he shrugs, taking a swig of his glass of water. Sejanus knew what it meant: I told you so. He’s never wanted to tell someone off so badly, he bites his tongue anyhow.
In the midst of eating, he suddenly began to feel bilious, as his voice had turned groggy whilst he was speaking. His tone was as rugged as sandpaper, scratching his throat on the way out. Even after he’d attempted to clear it, it only heightened the urge to vomit. With his head spinning and stomach churning, he slowly crept out of the conversation and listened to his Ma and aunt chat instead.
His father chimed in, and his cousins just spoke to one another. He felt like he was trapped in a box, with his arms stitched to his hips, vision blurring from spacing out. Nothing felt right, or real, and within seconds, he excuses himself and has to rush to the bathroom.
The bright lights that draped across the mirror don’t welcome him kindly, they especially don’t help with his dizziness after he’s unable to keep down the vomit that had been building up. Perched over the porcelain toilet, his eyes grow teary and he starts to cry, too. He’s swiping away at his tears, fingers locked around the latch that would flush everything down, when he hears Ma's heels and familiar voice again.
“Sejanus?” she begins, as always. “Are you okay?”
After a moment, Sejanus answers. “No.” he’s still sitting on the floor, legs tucked below himself. His voice remained crackly, just as it was at the table before he had left.
“What’s wrong?” Ma breathed through the narrow slit that separated them.
He isn’t sure how to answer. Everything? The fact that his friend’s own state after the Hunger Games has begun to fully eat away at him as well? That he still can’t sleep without dreaming of death and gore? That he doesn’t feel alive, even after Marcus had surrendered his whole self for him, almost as if he did it all for nothing? What wasn’t wrong?
“I’m sick.” Sejanus said, alternatively.
“Like how?” Ma questioned.
He curls into himself. “I vomited and I can hardly stand without feeling dizzy.” the coolness of the tiled floor had soothed him a bit, though. He wants to lie down on it, maybe it’d wash away the heat that clouded around him.
“Here—stay there and I’ll get you some medicine. Can you unlock the door?” she sounded farther away now, he assumed she was already making her way to the basket of remedies that resided in their hallway closet. He nods, as if she can see him, and reaches for the tab that would unlock the bathroom knob.
She returns in a span of a few minutes, handing him a small cup of dark brown liquid. He resists the urge to scrunch up his nose in disgust. “I know it’s not your favorite, but if you’re getting sick, it’s the only thing that’ll help. At least for now.” she informs him calmly, hands on the sink. “Anything else that’s bothering you?”
He brings the plastic cup to his lips, and hesitantly tosses the thick medicine toward the back of his throat. The taste is awful, it hasn’t changed since he was little. “Not really.” he lies, pressing the back of his hand to his damp mouth. “I’m just… I’m just really tired, I think.”
Ma looks down at him worriedly. “Just tired?” she asked quickly, he instantly glanced up at her. “Is it Marcus?”
What wasn’t about Marcus anymore? Sejanus gives the cup back to her, and he crosses his arms over his bent knees. She didn’t know about the bar, or him leaving the house that night period, he had thrown away the note as soon as he got home. But she did know about everything else. The train station, Marcus’s harsh words at the mines, his concealment. Sejanus’s letters and failed efforts in communicating with him. She had always been the first one to see the misery on his face when he came back.
“Yeah.” he answered dimly. “Can’t seem to think about anything else.”
“I know,” Ma leant down, “it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
Sejanus nodded slowly, then had to divert his eyes. “I don’t think it’ll ever be the same. It’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ma protested sharply, “why would it be your fault? I don’t think even Marcus blames you. He wouldn’t have done what he did if he was going to blame you in the end.”
“Yes he does. I know it. He hates me so bad, Ma. He really does.” Sejanus tried to convince her. He didn’t want this to go very far, he knew it was a hard conversation to have. He had already decided that he needed to keep this part of himself hidden, from Ma, from everyone. There was no fixing it. “He hates me.” he repeated, unfortunate enough to feel a warm tear trickle down his cheek.
Ma frowned. “He does not, Sejanus.” she said. And for a shivering second, Sejanus feels a rush of cold run up his skin while Ma’s expression softens. “He sacrificed himself for you. If that isn’t the strongest statement of love, then I don’t know what is. I truly don’t.”
He could vomit again. He couldn’t listen to this. Not now. The past was the past, the Reaping was in the past. Him and Marcus, the full, zoetic versions of them, were in the past. He knew it wasn’t true, not anymore.
Sejanus’s entire body shook in disagreement, his retained sobs coughing from his tightened lips. “He doesn’t love me.”
Ma looks at him like he’s a wounded deer. “You don’t understand it yet, sweetheart.” she then offers him her palm, outstretching her fingers. Without any reason not to, he takes it. He realizes upon standing, that some of the dizziness had fizzed away, though he still didn’t feel great.
Sejanus can’t say anything in regards to her words. He thought himself to be smart, he was in one of the best schools in the district, training to be a paramedic. He’s never not been stellar in class whilst growing up—and he couldn’t understand, what, love? Marcus? Or maybe he was just ignorant, and so self-loathing that he couldn’t fathom someone actually loving him in the way Ma was implying. It was confusing. Harrowing. He couldn’t handle it all at once, he really might go crazy by the end of the year.
If what she said was true, then… of course Sejanus had loved him back. He’ll never love anyone else the way he loves Marcus, but everything hurts now. Everything is terrible and he’s exhausted. He knows Marcus is, too. They both are. He wishes he could tell Marcus how much he cared for him, how he felt and how desperately he needs him in his life again. He was dying along with him.
Ma guides him to his room, fingers curving over the top of his shoulder. They stop in front of Sejanus’s door. “Get some rest, and I’ll call Dr. Junia to let her know you won’t be in class tomorrow.”
Sejanus sighed. “It’s fine. I can—I can call her.” his back taps against the door as he steps away, “in the morning.”
Ma takes in a shuddering breath, but nods. “Alright, then.” she said, walking toward the banister of the staircase. “But rest, please. And come and get me if you throw up again. I’ll probably be awake for a while, with your aunt and all.”
“I will. Promise.” Sejanus agrees, somehow feeling like a child. He would have told her he loved her before heading for bed, but a dagger of pain splits up his skull, and he immediately feels faint. “Goodnight.” he manages to mumble.
He returns to the warmth of his mess of a bed, his sheets are tangled, smelling of pine bud and salt. He sinks into the softness of his mattress at once, too comforted to change out of his button-lined top and buckled dress pants. He knows he’ll regret it when he wakes up.
Sejanus isn’t certain as to what causes his eyes to shoot open. But something had woken him, and he could feel it—traveling through his chest and into his flesh. He sits up, ignoring the wave of lightheadedness that had washed over him.
At first, he assumes it’s the clothes. His spine and shoulders were doused in sweat, so were his inner thighs. The material of them had begun to stick, and it had felt like they were ironed to his sensitive skin. Forcing himself to his feet, he quickly changes out of them and is able to take a breath once the lightness of his pajamas take over. He still didn’t feel right, though. He hesitatingly rotates around his room, eyeing each and every piece of it.
Nothing appeared wrong, or out of place. His brows furrowed in suspicion, and he allowed his legs to lead him from the space in front of his dresser, to the window. The moon was hardly visible tonight, and with its height, Sejanus realized that it was far past midnight. It could’ve been a quarter past one, maybe two. His thoughts of time stop as his wandering gaze trails to the yard across the street.
Now, something had looked out of place. He’s stared out of this window countless times at night, into the darkness, studying the moon because he couldn’t sleep. But he’s never recalled seeing a dark silhouette trudging from Marcus’s yard. Concern and worry commence below his ribs. He squints, leaning even closer and bumping his forehead against the cool glass.
It’s hard to find the figure again, with the ocean of black that swaddled Marcus’s house and the moon’s poor light. His heart doesn’t catch in his throat until the said figure’s frame meshes with the mandarin tinted lantern that shone by the front door of Sejanus’s home. He knows his father had complained about forgetting to flick it off before bed, and for once, he’s grateful for one of his father’s mistakes. As he realizes that the dark shadow was no one other than Marcus.
Tension sinks into his body. Why was Marcus walking toward his house? Sejanus felt like he couldn’t breathe. He has to press his palm against the border of the window to hold himself upright. The tightness gradually untwists into confusion, though, once he puts together that Marcus wasn’t marching for his house, but to the area behind it. He disappears beyond the side of his bricked building in seconds.
When Sejanus could no longer see him, the puzzlement shifted back to concern. He was heading for the forest. But why? For what? All of the sudden, an overwhelming urge plows through him, and he springs into action. Rushing to put the closest pair of shoes on.
Skipping stairs, he reaches the now empty, silent kitchen, and crosses the distance toward the cabinet that withheld the exact flashlight he’d brought with him to the Brutus Bar. He rummages through the small knick knacks and unopened office supplies before he eventually grabs hold of the cool metal. Testing it’s worth, he shines the white circular light onto his palm a few times, deeming it as useful. And as quietly as he could, he unlocked the door, aimed the flashlight upward, and slipped outside.
Sensing the smush of the soft ground on the bottoms of his shoes, he loops around the far right side of his home and makes way for the widely spread forest. A blow of wind encircles him entirely, rearranging his loose strands of hair, he tries to keep them tamed by brushing them back, and as he navigates the flash across the line of trees repeatedly, he remembers how big this forest was. And how difficult it would be to find a singular person. Especially at night.
He and Marcus had made jokes again and again when they used to walk through here, about how easily they could lose track of where they were going, which is exactly why they mostly hung around the same spot every single time. The reminder only deepens his anxiety, what if Marcus had been in a delicate state of mind when he’d wandered outside? And he’d actually gotten lost? He swallows a whine of worry, and takes long strides, entering the mouth of the woods.
Dead leaves crunch under him, the sounds of singing insects, calming waters of the creek, and other small animals running through the air fill his ears. He periodically directs the light around his feet, to each of his sides, just to be sure nothing was about to attack his legs. But other than that, there were no noises Sejanus could suspect a human would make. His worry continued, the flashlight began to slip from his hand as his skin grew clammy.
“Marcus?” Sejanus hushed, a tad over a whisper. He inhaled slowly, moving forward again. “Where are you?” he added, much quieter and more so to himself.
Maybe Marcus had turned around and gone back home, and Sejanus was about to get himself lost. He finally stops, adjusting his position, trying to figure out where to go, when he hears something new. It’s distant, but it echoed. Loudly. Sejanus can genuinely compare it to a drum, as if a person from afar was swinging and hitting the instrument as hard as they possibly could.
His heart steadies, and he’s caught in a net of indiscretion almost immediately. He chooses to follow it, keeping his pale light angled up the path. It starts up again, booming and vibrating throughout the black, cloudy sky above. Then, it comes to an abrupt halt, and Sejanus does, too. The rustling of disoriented, viscid scratching instantly takes its place. Cold sharp blades rake down his back, he could physically feel the color drain from his face. What was that? And why did it sound so terrible?
It egged on for a couple more seconds, Sejanus had begun to fear whatever it was. He didn’t move another muscle during its duration, he felt glued to the bed of the forest, like vines from beneath the surface had poked through and tied green knots around the tops of his shoes.
Once stillness poured from the woods again, he delved a bit further, and with as much light as the moon could offer, Sejanus could make out an outline near a tree trunk. He writes it off as a rock, or a bundle of leaves, until he arrows the flashlight toward the area.
His eyes widened in shock, brows lifting up just as quickly as he realized that it was no birth of nature. He can’t keep his voice down this time, “Marcus!” he hops over a root, practically sprinting for him. The wind picks up with his hustling, drying the sweat and whatever else had begun to build up on his skin.
Marcus hadn’t even flinched when he found him, Sejanus had originally assumed this was because he hadn’t noticed his arrival, but it only takes a quick moment of analyzing to know the truth. He was asleep. His eyelids were completely sewn shut. He’s curled into a fetal position, with his knees bent into his stomach and his arms coiling near his face.
And it wasn’t the fact that Marcus had been asleep that made his own knees sink to the ground, it was the fact that from his wrists to the indent in his elbow, there were deep, bloody gashes. His fingers were exposed, Sejanus could see the dark ruby that coated his nails. His knuckles were busted, too. Some pieces of skin were peeled back or scraped off completely, revealing bone. It was awful. Awful enough to cause him to bring his palm to his mouth, muffling the low gasp that escaped it.
“Marcus, please.” Sejanus had to wake him. He gently places his fingertips on Marcus’s shoulder, “please, wake up—please.” he said once more, now pressing the soft bones of his inner hand into Marcus’s clothed, plush body.
Sejanus says his name again. Again. And again. If it wasn’t for Marcus heaving upward as if he’d been electrocuted, he would’ve gone on.
Marcus had released a cry that had been resemblant of a scream, however it was frail, and had sounded almost like he’d been strangled beforehand. With his back against the thick trunk, his chest rises and falls in panic. Sejanus wants to reach for him so badly. He wants to soothe his cries, warm Marcus’s scarred cheek with his touch. The slash looked even rougher in the dullness. But he knows Marcus wouldn’t like that. He rolls them into trembling fists instead.
“Are you okay?” Sejanus asked, stupidly. Marcus’s eyes are as dark as the environment around him, he almost looks like he’s spacing out entirely. He then breaks contact with Sejanus’s fretful glint, and begins to look at himself. “Marcus, I know you don’t want me here but… I thought you might get lost. And with it being dark and all I—I just had to follow you. I was worried. I’m sorry.”
Marcus is too focused on the blood on his hands to even acknowledge his words. He’s shaking, whimpering like he’s scared to death and horrified by what he’s seeing.
Sejanus could tear up and bawl with him, but he then thinks about his bus trip to the mines, and what Dr. Junia had said to him: You can’t get inside your head. Not when people need you. Marcus needs him, he starts to believe. To redirect him or help him to his feet—whatever it was, he couldn’t stay here. In these woods, freezing and surrounded by twilight. Marcus needed to get up, he needed to go home. Sejanus leans a little closer to him.
“Marcus, you’re—you’re bleeding. Quite a lot and… I want to help you.” Sejanus said with a rush. Taking in a breath himself. “Let me help you. Please, just this once.”
Marcus doesn’t say anything, his breathing is still hard, skull lazily tilted backward. Is he even hearing Sejanus? He can’t tell, he could faint from the sheer distress that was pulling him down into the dirt.
He wonders, suddenly, why Marcus had trudged into here. Why he was asleep when Sejanus found him. He tries to think, quite literally imagining the pages of his books for class, as if he was coming up with a diagnosis. The first thing that comes to mind after recollecting Marcus’s behavior is sleepwalking.
He seemed so out of it now—was he actually sleeping this whole time? Could your eyes open like that whilst sleepwalking? He didn’t know. It was one of the topics he knew very little of. And it just opens up even more questions.
He had to have been dreaming of the Games. There’s no way he wasn’t. He’s never seen Marcus act this way before, not even after his father and sister passed. Sejanus envisions the arena, how it was completely outdoors, frugally covered. A large hole split through the front, which explained the piles of debris that piled all over the floor. He doesn’t know what happened for it to look like that, maybe it’d been done on purpose. It didn’t matter.
He stares at Marcus, memories of him after he stepped off that train flash in Sejanus’s brain.
Sejanus understands. Marcus was still in that arena. Physically, he was in Two. But his body, his soul, Marcus, his Marcus… was in the Capitol’s bath of bloodshed, the Hunger Games. That colosseum. No matter how much he pretended to be fine now, to be upright and strong. Sejanus had known the truth all along.
It hurt to merely imagine it, but Sejanus accepted that it was veracious: Marcus had died there. The Marcus he remembered. The Marcus that had looked at him with beautiful flaming eyes, and had laughed with him in this all too familiar forest, who listened to what Sejanus had to say when no one else would, left him long ago. He wasn’t his to love anymore.
It makes the self-inflicted harm more terrible. Sejanus peeks at the face of the tree, gently leaning to the side, and can map the streaks of blood on the pale, gruelly bark, stained by Marcus’s knuckles. That was the drumming noise. Sejanus wanted to throw up. It felt like his stomach was on fire, burning with shame and guilt. Marcus is living through the Games in his sleep, he’s dreaming of killing that boy. And he’s punishing himself for it.
Incapable of watching Marcus twitch and wobble from his masked slumber of horror for any longer, Sejanus acts on impulse, and digs the cap of his knee into the mushy dirt, inclining himself into Marcus and tossing one of his limp arms around the nape of his neck. “It’s okay, Marcus.” Sejanus said as he rose to his feet, Marcus standing with him. “I’m going to take you home.”
Marcus mumbled and groaned as Sejanus guided them between the trees, attempting to keep the small flashlight as steady as possible. He could feel the wetness of Marcus’s blood smearing on the inside of his neck, beneath his jaw and under his fingers. That night at Brutus Bar reappears in his head again. Marcus was probably disgusted with the blood on his hands then, too. Sejanus remembers the tears in his eyes. He feels terrible.
Marcus had walked alongside him easier than Sejanus had anticipated, through the remaining trails that lead toward the same set of separated trees that Sejanus had entered between, and then to Marcus’s porch. Of course, Marcus’s cooperation was only because he was stuck in a dream state, dancing on the lines of conscious and unconscious. If he knew Sejanus was carrying him, he would’ve pushed him away. He wouldn’t have stopped him.
When they reached Marcus’s house, his door was wide open. Allowing any kind of bug or animal to scatter within, Sejanus steps on the uncleansed hardwood hesitantly. “I’m just gonna take you to bed, alright?” he said as if Marcus could hear him.
Sejanus couldn’t repress the frown that formed on his lips as he slowly viewed Marcus’s living room, his kitchen. Everything was showered with dust, his couch, his stove, the floors. Every single thing. It broke his heart.
Marcus used to enjoy this stuff. He liked to mow his grass, he liked to fix the siding of his house and he liked how new and homely the inside looked after Sejanus had brought in the brand new furniture and appliances. Sejanus would have told him how much he loved doing that for him then. If only he had known how things would turn out for them in a span of a few months. He wished he could go back.
Once Sejanus bumped open the door to Marcus’s room, he softly laid him onto his bed, unwrapping his arm from the back of his neck and taking the time to replace the socks Marcus had worn outside with clean ones. He had felt invasive for pulling open the drawers to Marcus’s dresser, but he had only grabbed a pair of socks, and retreated back to his side.
While Marcus’s face tipped to the side and into his pillow, fully asleep, Sejanus tended to his wounds with the first aid kit he had brought over months—maybe years ago. Now, he had a little more insight on how to properly take care of his injuries. He’d cleansed the deep scratches, scrubbed away the splats of blood and wrapped his arms, bandaged his knuckles and hands. He felt so sorry for him, he could only hope that Marcus would take a day off work. Or two. He was destroying himself physically just as harshly as he was mentally.
The last thing Sejanus wants to do is leave him. He wants to stay with him while he sleeps, watching over him. Letting his fingers flow through Marcus’s dark hairs until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, until the sun peeked through the curtains and warmed their skin. But that wasn’t his call to make. So, Sejanus stands upward, rubbing his drying palms together, now washed and no longer doused in Marcus’s blood, and pulls the heavy blanket up to his chest.
Marcus snored whilst he tucked the thick cloth around his frame, and he stirred a little. Even as he slept, Marcus didn’t look peaceful. His brows were still faintly strung together, mouth raised, causing his cheeks to tense up. If his hands weren’t covered, Sejanus is sure they would’ve been formed into tight fists.
Waking up to Marcus’s arms around him that one morning, after his father had screamed at him over his future the night prior, had comforted him in more ways than he could’ve ever imagined. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that everyday. He wouldn’t mind it at all. He thinks about it as if its possibility of happening again was existent. That had been the worst, most splintering realization. It was obvious, yet it still hurt the same every single time.
The memory plagued Sejanus’s mind, causing his eyes to ignite with tears, the sense of nausea and weakness rehabilitating his body. He brings his silky sleeve to his nose as he turns to walk out of Marcus’s room, inhaling whatever was floating in the air through his mouth and twisting the squeaking knob to his door. He locks it on his way out, knowing Marcus had always done that when he’d left the house. He accepts that it’s probably the last time he’ll ever go in there again.
The first thing he does in the morning is call Dr. Junia to let her know he’d be absent. She’d sounded slightly aggravated, but he really didn’t feel well. His head had now started to ache and it had felt like his brain was spinning. He’d been drinking multiple glasses of water as soon as he woke up in attempts to soothe it, but it hadn’t helped as much as he thought. Ma gave him a few painkillers, and then he began to feel somewhat decent.
The second thing he does is look out of the window. He looks for Marcus. He’d awoken very early, so Sejanus would’ve surely caught him if he had planned to go to work. He never saw him, though. Sejanus had somewhat felt relieved.
He’d worried him to death when he’d go into the mines sick, or hurt. As he kept warning him that it’d only worsen his injuries and illnesses. Marcus would wave him off, disagreeing, saying he needed the money and couldn’t risk getting a low paycheck. That Sejanus wouldn’t understand. He would shut up after that.
He was relieved, yes. But anxiety had quickly smoothed over him. Had Marcus… possibly wandered out before sunrise? Once again? Is that the real reason why he didn’t see him leave? The sheer thought made Sejanus’s stomach turn. The image of him dismantling his dressed wounds against the tree and making himself bleed even more sojourned behind Sejanus’s tired eyes. He should go check on him, really. Just to be sure.
Unbuttoning his pajama top, he grabs the closest freshly washed shirt from his closet and pulls it over his head. He does the same with his pants, and eventually is dressed well enough to put on his shoes. Which still had dry, crusty mud stuck to the heels. He reminds himself to grab a jacket, as it’d been getting chilly lately and the summer season had finally begun to dip into autumn. Taking the chestnut colored jacket from the hook attached to his wall, he throws it over his shoulders and zips up the front.
Loud echoes follow as he descends down the wooden staircase, he sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth when he hits the board of the dining room floor, and he’s about to pass the kitchen when Ma catches him. “I thought you weren’t going to class today?” she asks, cleaning off one of her baking pans.
Sejanus stops and turns, raising his brows. “Oh, I—I’m not. I was…” he pauses, Ma sets the pan on the marble counter. “I was going to see Marcus, actually.”
“Did something happen?” Ma tilted her head.
Sejanus should probably tell the truth. Yes! Something did happen. He beat another man unconscious last week because he had threatened me and last night I found him sleepwalking in the woods with bloody arms and disfigured knuckles. But he doesn’t. Instead, he says: “No—no, nothing’s happened. I’ve just… been thinking of him.” he then forced a small smile. “And, like you said… It's been a while.”
“Right,” Ma said, “well, are you wanting to give him anything? I still have a fresh batch of brownies from last night, your cousins didn’t eat them all this time.”
He wants to say yes. But he knows he’s been doing far too much with the batches of treats. Marcus has never liked gifts, Sejanus had been aware of that forever. So why did he keep doing it now? For all he knew, he could’ve been pushing Marcus away himself. Even if the boxes had disappeared each time Sejanus left them on his doorstep, that hadn’t meant anything. He could’ve been throwing them away. Just like he probably did with Sejanus’s letters.
He was an idiot, wasn’t he?
Sejanus slowly shakes his head. “I don’t think he’d like that.”
“Oh, okay.” Ma halts her movement for the fridge, awkwardly crossing her hands over her torso. “I hope it goes well, then.”
“Thank you.” Sejanus breathed gently, waiting for a second to pass before rotating his shoulders and yanking at the door.
He’s welcomed with a shy chill, brown leaves spread across the grass and onto the slim path of concrete that weaved from the beginning of his home and into the street. He walks across it, a nervous vibration lingering in his throat as his eyes glare through Marcus’s scratched windows. He picks up his pace, nearly slipping in the mud of Marcus’s yard.
The tip of his shoes meet with Marcus’s porch, and he has to swallow a deep breath, as he starts to think of the very first time he’d come to visit Marcus after he’d returned to Two, when he’d left with tears in his eyes and a torn out heart.
He elevates himself by planting his foot onto the low stair, and just when he’s about to knock on the wooden slate he’s been exiled with many instances before, he hears a meow. Instinctively, he looks at the messy space of vines and limp flowers near the right side of Marcus’s home, and his curious gaze is filtered by the same icy white cat he’d once pet and spoken to in July. And, of course, he remembers her for scratching him to tears when he was little.
He’d begged Ma to let him put out a cold bowl of water and food for her, even after the attack, he was at least nine then. She was certainly old now, and her age showed with the faint yellow on her paws and face. But she was still so cute. He wanted to lift her into his arms and take her home, he knew that wouldn’t end well, though. With his fathers allergies and dislike for any kind of animal.
“You again.” Sejanus said lightly, a soft grin on his lips as she jumped onto the porch with him, “want to accompany me?”
She only looks up at him, her big, grayish blue eyes glistening beneath the thin rays of sun that poked through the clouds. He truly can’t recall the last day there was blatant sunshine in the sky, it felt like there hasn’t been a singular one ever since Marcus came home.
She seemed to meow in acknowledgment. “Here I go, then.” Sejanus nodded, inching for the door.
As soon as he lifts his knuckles to hit the wood, the hinges fly open with a hard screech.
Sejanus hops away, taken aback by the gust of wind and by the rock-hard, blazing expression on Marcus’s face. He’d already known Sejanus was here. He still doesn’t greet him. He doesn’t say a word, Sejanus has to quickly recollect himself.
“Marcus,” Sejanus starts, noticing how the gauze he’d wrapped around Marcus’s arms had begun to loosen. “I just—I just wanted to come and check on you. Because, you know… after last night.” he said quite tensely, overlapping his fingers.
Marcus’s features fall into something unidentifiable for a moment, and then, he looks Sejanus right in the eye. “What are you talking about?”
Sejanus’s mouth drops agape, questions whirling within his skull. “Last night? You walked into the forest and…” Judging by the pure mystification written all over Marcus’s face, his next question is already answered. But he asks anyway. “Do you not remember?” Softness and concern had slipped in between the notes of his voice.
Marcus calmly declined. Sejanus was shocked, but was it that surprising, really? It’s not like you remember each and every one of your dreams, and if Marcus was living through his sleep-wired illusions the entire time he was sleepwalking, then it wasn’t impossible. Sejanus didn’t always remember his, either. He did most of the time, because of how horrible they were. But there were days where he’d woken up with an empty mind. While it was rare, it did happen.
Sejanus settles his shoulders. Thinking of the bloodied tree, the cruor on Marcus’s skin. “Can I… show you something?” Marcus’s brow lifts suspiciously. “In the forest. I think you should be aware of it.”
Marcus’s focus flits down to the ground. “Just say it.”
“It’s—Marcus, please. It’s worrying.” Sejanus said, then frowned when Marcus eventually met his eyes again. “I’ll explain everything. Just walk with me, it won’t be long. I promise.”
A strange musk smokes up around Marcus. Sejanus could see something different, could feel something different. In his glint, in his mannerisms. He appeared as if he was truly considering it, considering Sejanus. He looks like he wants to trust and fall into Sejanus’s pleas. He wants to ask once more, but Marcus’s boot scruffs against his concrete porch.
Sejanus offers Marcus a gentle smile as he steps out, he instantly bites the inner flesh of his cheek to keep it caged. The situation was nothing to grin about, he couldn’t help his stomach from bursting with relief, though. Was something finally changing? He thinks to himself as Marcus begins to follow him, through the mud that lead to the forest.
Sejanus tries to break the silence. “No work today?”
A stick crunched under Marcus’s shoe. “Not scheduled.” And, wittily, he adds: “No school today?”
“I wasn’t feeling well enough to go in.” Sejanus tells him, glancing behind his shoulder. Marcus was already looking at him, he grunted in lieu of commenting on that.
Neither of them produce another sound until the familiar line of trees stand ahead of them, Sejanus stops in his tracks when Marcus plants himself in front of him. “Well, are you gonna start talking, or what?” he said authoritatively.
Sejanus’s heart jumps at his sudden volume, but nods in the process. “Yes—of course.” he huffs and thins his lips, walking past Marcus, as if to guide him. He clears his throat, preparing to rehearse last night. He then hears footsteps trail after him.
“So, I woke up around one in the morning,” Sejanus began, the two of them enter the woods together. “And I saw a silhouette. It was coming from your yard, I didn’t know who or what it was at first, until it stepped under the light by my house and I realized that it was you.” He pauses, he can somehow envision the exact face Marcus was making now. Lips pursuing. Squinting eyes. “I actually thought you were coming to my doorstep, then, you passed my house and headed for the woods. I got up right away to follow you.”
Sejanus turns toward Marcus as he slips around a thick tree. He was attempting to trace his footsteps, but with it being so dark the previous night and the ground looking the same, it would certainly be a challenge. However, he remembers the trunk Marcus hit. It was white. And there weren’t many white trees around.
“I was… kind of looking around for a while, I almost thought you went home, until I started hearing this awful noise. It sounded like a huge drum. And once I got closer, I heard wet scratching.” Sejanus said with disdain, the image revisiting his mind made him nauseous. He puts his searching on hold to lock eyes with Marcus. He’d started to pick at his gauze. “Then… I found you.”
Marcus’s head twists, and his brows twitch, as if he’d spotted something. Sejanus matches his line of vision, guts curving in knots at the sight. It was the tree. The milky, black spotted, bloody tree. Sejanus was behind him now, trying to keep up with his anxious pace.
They reach it, and he doesn’t think he’s seen Marcus ever look so… calm. The blood had dried against the bark, its once red hue had slumped into brown. “This is where you were lying. Right here.” Sejanus informed him softly, tapping the flat surface of dirt with his foot, “you were… so hurt. So scared. And—I tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t say a thing. Even though your eyes were wide open.”
It seemed like Marcus was trying to envision it happening, he outstretched his wrapped fingers in front of him with a wince. “I hit this.” he said wearily, as if he was unsurprised by the sight.
“Yeah. That’s why you have the bandages on,” Sejanus confirmed, then Marcus backed away from the tree. He nearly thought Marcus would question who’d put them on, or who drug him to his house, even though it had been obvious. “You’re sleepwalking, Marcus.” he let the words hang in the air, “have you… ever woke up in the woods before? Since you came home?”
Marcus isn’t facing him anymore, and he’s reticent for a solid moment or two. “It was a long time ago.” The heat in Sejanus’s cheeks froze. It had happened before? “I think it might’ve been… the first or… second day after I got home? But—I didn’t do this.” Sejanus’s throat closed with sickness as Marcus motioned toward the trunk, continuing. His tone was so quiet, so sad. “I only woke up with my face in the dirt.”
“What do you dream about?” Sejanus queried hoarsely, there was no reason for him to ask, as he’d already had a pretty good idea. Marcus stays silent, Sejanus knows he doesn’t want to answer him. “What brings you outside at night?”
“It’s always the same thing.” Marcus said, lowering himself to the ground. Sejanus sat with him. “I’m sure you know what it is,” he then, ever so slowly, peeks over at Sejanus. “If you were watching.”
Sejanus could feel a bulb grow within the skin that shielded his neck. “I… I was.” he said honestly. The faded, glitchy clip of Marcus and the boy with the ax glisten in his brain.
“Treech. District Seven.” Marcus averted his gaze from him, he now had a small stick in between his fingers. “I could dream of the bombing, the dead bodies hanging above me while I was in a cage, the snakes, even. But he’s the one haunting me when I fall asleep. It’s always him. Always that very moment when I…” he trails off while Sejanus fails to hold in his gasp.
A bombing? Dead bodies—hanging? “The first two things,” he began hastily, as he did remember the snakes. The rainbow ones. Sweeping through the arena and taking out every other alive tribute other than Marcus and that boy—Treech. “Did that happen before the Games?”
Marcus hummed in confirmation. “There weren’t many of us when they actually started, a lot of the kids died in the bombing.” he explained, “oh, and I had the stupidest guy following me around, too. He was my mentor.” Marcus laughed. It’s the first time Sejanus has heard his laughter since… forever. Even if it was in a mocking manner, it was something other than muted distance. “I don’t even remember his name.”
That was… strange. He does remember seeing a row of Capitol students on his television during the broadcasts. Was that what they were? Mentors? Assigned a tribute? That made Sejanus’s stomach hurt. It really was nothing more than a show to them.
The bombing had made sense, when he thought about the arena’s structure. What he’d seen on the television. Bent poles and piles of stone everywhere, but why? Was it planned? Random? Marcus probably told him as much as he knew. “Is… that how you got food in there? From your mentor?”
“I ate one thing. That was it.” Marcus said, Sejanus could curl into himself and disappear. One thing. The entire three weeks he was gone, he ate one thing. “He kept sending me stuff anyway. It’s like he was trying to kill me—with the drones.”
“I saw that. They kept crashing.” Sejanus inserted, trying to keep his voice firm. But it cracked despite his efforts.
Marcus scoffed. “They were awful, you’d think I’d dream of them, too.” he snapped the twig. “But no. Just Treech. Just me… tearing my hands apart for what I did. Never thought it’d translate into real life, though. Not that it matters, it won't undo anything.”
He sunk into the dirt below him. No wonder Marcus avoided him when he came home, he’d gone through so much. Even more so now. How could Sejanus not suffocate in guilt? It was his name on that slip. It was his. Sejanus should be the one suffering, half-dead. “Oh—Marcus, I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.” he stands up, suddenly in tears. He presses his palms into his damp eyes. “It’s all my fault.”
It was very, very still. That worried Sejanus, but, soon enough, he heard leaves grinding against the sole of a rugged boot. “What is?” Marcus piqued.
Sejanus couldn’t look at him. “This!” he echoed into the open area of nature, wind whistled through the thick air. “Everything you went through, Marcus. It should have been me! My name was called, not yours. I should’ve—“
“I wouldn’t have taken your place if I believed that.” Marcus cut in quite abruptly, explosively.
Sejanus’s heartbeat bumped in his ears. “I wish you did,” he said harshly. “You’re the last person who deserved that.”
“What I deserve doesn’t matter.” Marcus insisted, heat behind his tongue. Sejanus could feel it on his, too. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Are you?” Sejanus asked. He regrets it, as when he turns, he watches Marcus’s face furrow. He can’t stop his words from falling from his mouth anyhow. “You haven’t had life in your eyes in months. You don’t take care of your house anymore. You don’t take care of yourself. You’re reliving killing that boy in your dreams. And you’re hurting yourself because you think you deserve it, aren’t you?”
Marcus is angry, now. The flare in his eyes was always easy to detect. “I killed a child with my hands. It’s only fair to try and destroy them.”
“None of this is fair!” Sejanus exasperated, the tears were hot. They practically burned his cheeks as they trailed downward. “You had no choice.”
“I did.” Marcus’s tone tamed, “I could’ve let him slash my throat, he was close, too.” Sejanus then felt Marcus’s shoulder graze his, with him now rooted right ahead, he couldn’t not look at him. He doesn’t breathe as Marcus leans closer. “So, in your words, it should’ve been me.”
Sejanus shook his head furiously. “I wouldn’t be able to live if you died in there.” he mouthed, “don’t you remember me telling you that? In your bed?” Marcus ambled backward, no longer breathing each other’s air. He didn’t say yes, but Sejanus knew by the switch in his expression that he did.
The anger in Marcus’s flush of desaturated eyes had begun to spread with sorrow. Sejanus’s teeth dug into each other, grating and throbbing with contrition. The tears had dried in the corner of his eyes, but they still burned. He blinks, Marcus stares at him like he’s glass. Like he can see right through him.
A question that’s lived in Sejanus’s mind ever since Marcus came home, ever since that train station, makes itself known. It tumbles out like sludge: “Do you regret it?”
He listens to a bird chirp, to wind brushing apart leaves. Marcus appeared as if he was stunned, struggling to unravel what Sejanus was tearfully asking him. “I only regret mistakes.” Marcus said, “and what I did at the Reaping was not a mistake.”
“Then… then why are we doing this? Why—“ Sejanus’s voice stuck to his throat, clogging his airways and causing a cry of desperation to puff out of his mouth. He was crying again. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. “Why are you telling me to stay out of your life? Why are you shutting me out like you hate me? It hurts. It hurts so much, Marcus. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t sleep—I can hardly eat. I’ve been vomiting because I’m so sick over you.”
The lividness returns. “Because—look around you!” Marcus exclaimed so thunderously the birds that were perching on branches above, flew away. He walks past Sejanus, towards that tree. “Look at this! I did this in my sleep. And even if this was done to hurt myself, who knows what would happen if I were to dream about winning again. What if someone was with me and I—” He stops.
Sejanus doesn’t glance at the stained tree once, he only looks at Marcus. “I killed someone, Sejanus. You watched it happen. You saw what I did. Why would I put you in that sort of danger after I just got back from saving you?”
Because it’s for your own good.
Sejanus could feel his heart snapping into two. His lungs withering. His eyes melting into a rough sea. “I’m not afraid of you, Marcus.” he whispered, “why would I be afraid of my only hero?”
The snow Marcus scooped for his bleeding finger when everyone else would have let him bleed, the Reaping and the Brutus Bar. The one person Sejanus trusted. The one person Sejanus loved.
Marcus’s eyelids gently part, pupils dilating, bottom lip quivering. And Sejanus thinks it may be the first time he’s about to see Marcus truly cry. He whips his head away from Sejanus so quickly he’s certain it was painful. Then he’s walking to the edge of the forest, sights set on leaving Sejanus entirely.
“No—Marcus, please.” Sejanus trips on a root chasing after him, he jumps back up fast enough to catch his arm. “Don’t go, please—I just want you back. That’s all I want. Please, Marcus.”
Sejanus listens to Marcus take a slow, calculated breath, then his bicep tensed beneath his grasp. “I’m no hero.”
“You’re mine.” Sejanus’s chest ached. “You’ll always be mine, no matter what you do.”
Marcus glances at him. Exhaustion, agony and blood reside in his circular, misty flecks of slain saffron and cedar green. “You’ve been like this forever.” Sejanus’s fingers trace his fuzz lined flannel, he’s surprised Marcus hasn’t pulled away yet. He slightly tilts his head to the side, as if he was questioning him, and awaiting the explanation.
“There was a cat. We were real little, and it scratched you like hell one day. But you kept feeding it. You kept petting it. Even though I told you to leave it alone. You just kept coming back for it…you probably don’t remember. I just—I think about it a lot. Some things have been reminding me of it.”
“I do,” Sejanus smiled, “the white one.” Marcus’s features turned to dough, it warmed Sejanus’s stomach instantly. “I just pet her today. She’s by your house all the time.”
The very corner of Marcus’s lip lifted into a tiny smile before disappearing mere seconds later. But it had been there. He smiled at him. Sejanus couldn’t contain his own, he could feel the cool breeze coat his gums and shiny flesh, crystallizing tears had risen and blurred his vision once more.
“Let’s make things good again, okay?” Marcus’s brows quirked, as if he recognized the saying, Sejanus didn’t think much of it. “We can take things slow—whatever you want. I just need you in my life.”
Marcus nodded. “But you did take what I said seriously, right?” he asked, “it didn’t go in one ear and out the other?”
“No, no. I listened.” Sejanus assured him.
“Good,” Marcus finally squirmed out of his grasp, “there will be boundaries.” he informed Sejanus as they began to walk toward the split row of trees that looked wide enough to be an exit. “I know you don’t want things to be different. Or to change. But that’s just the way things are now.” He comes up short, Sejanus almost steps on his loose shoelace trying to stop with him. “Just… keep your distance and things can be normal again. Somewhat.”
Distance. That was what had hurt Sejanus the most.
He doesn’t argue. He can understand what Marcus is saying. The Hunger Games would change anyone. Would ruin anyone. He had no right to be ungrateful when Marcus was alive, most district people were left with nothing but an empty grave when their children were sent off to the Capitol. That’s what he’d always heard, and seen for himself at least. He had never seen a body in the casket. They were always locked shut.
Sejanus had to endure the distance. This new lifestyle—it’s what Marcus wants. He had really, really spoken to Sejanus today. He opened up to him. About the Games, how he felt, and about their relationship. He couldn’t take that for granted, he couldn’t waste it. Not when he’s been a walking carcass these past few weeks because of how devastated he’s been over Marcus and how awfully they had crumbled. When he’s been begging, begging for him to come back.
This was it—this was the start of Marcus finding his light again. Sejanus wants to kick himself for feeling so hopeless last night. He was teetering on whether or not to spark another conversation whilst the back of his house came into view, but ultimately forces himself to remain quiet, and to only trail behind Marcus in peace. Not another word is said until they reach the path of dirt that sprinkled in front of Marcus’s porch.
A meow. A purr, and a surprised Marcus. The white cat hops from the flat rock she was lying upon and immediately slips in between Sejanus’s legs, he looks up at him. “Told you.”
Marcus releases a short sigh of amusement through his nose, draping a singular battered finger over her head once she rubbed her side onto his dark blue jeans, leaving her white hairs on the material. He straightened his back as she rolled onto the ground. Their lingering gazes match after Marcus has already ascended the two stairs that took him to his door.
Sejanus doesn’t want him to go, not yet. “Marcus,” he interjected right as Marcus was about to slide his key into the lock. Marcus’s chin is covered by his tall, muscular shoulder as his head angles to partially face him. The scar that stitched down his cheek complimented the glassy shine that painted over his eyes. Mid-swallow, Sejanus’s words got caught in his throat, and it came out dry: “I’m here for you. I mean it.”
Marcus lets it resonate, and then shyly nods into his build. It reminded Sejanus of when they walked back from the bar, when he’d thanked Marcus for protecting him. And he’d done the exact same thing, nodded as if he was still afraid. Afraid of himself, afraid of allowing Sejanus to slip through the fractures within him. But, instead of turning away and disappearing into his dark home without a word, he tips his head up, and lifts his thick brows with compliance. “I’ll see you around.”
A splintering smile threatens to rip across his mouth, he retains it to a gentle one. “Okay,” Sejanus agreed, his tone is much more willowy this time.
Sejanus finds solace in Marcus’s expression. It’s not a big change, but it’s unlike any of the other occurrences. He’s not angry, nor uncomfortable. He had just looked sweet, a sheen blanket of tranquility laid upon his features. Upon his scar and his once dead eyes. He looked like Marcus. “See you.” Sejanus concludes. When can I be with you again? goes unsaid.
Marcus had given him one last glance before tucking himself inside. Sejanus could see the dust that burrowed over his walls and along his furniture float above, mimicking a snowfall.
All Sejanus could think about was how the door was gingerly cracked open before closing.
By the first week of October, things had been… Good.
There was distance, yes. Boundaries. Like Marcus had said. Some days were silent, where they had only shared a short, domestic glance before going their separate ways in the morning. Marcus to a place that smelt of fire and stone, lined with darkness. Sejanus to the school that smelt of antiseptic and latex, lined with bright lights.
There was distance, yet when Sejanus had tugged himself down to the mines after class, bottoms of his clean pants dusty with the gravelly dirt, there would be times where he would search for Marcus in the field, as he always did, and realize that Marcus had already been looking at him. Sejanus wondered if he ever questioned him, maybe he was staring at him with confusion rather than fondness.
He forced himself to stay within the vicinity Marcus had allowed him to be in, even if he wanted so desperately to talk to him all day long. Be with him until dusk, just how they used to. He never tried to question it, though. He couldn’t risk upsetting Marcus and sending them back into the deep end.
But when the days came where Sejanus was gifted with Marcus’s presence, he reminded himself how lucky he was.
Like today.
It was an awfully chilly Sunday. Chilly, but temperate with the sun. A tick past noon, his stomach was full from the lunch Ma had given him. She’d been so happy when Sejanus revealed how things were going between them now. That small steps were being taken. She then told him how they’d eventually advance into bigger ones, and everything would fall into place.
He smiled, as he’d envisioned their relationship blooming into something stronger after all of this already. He thinks of her words from last month, when they’d both been sitting on the cold floor in the bathroom: If that isn’t the strongest statement of love, then I don’t know what is.
He’s imagining warm hugs and sweet whispers when he makes a hasty decision in between his bites of his meatloaf sandwich. He’d wanted to see Marcus. It was too beautiful out, and Sejanus knew he wouldn’t have to work. With him popping awake at an early hour, he had peeked outside as the golden rays rose above the horizon and noticed that Marcus’s door hadn’t opened once.
It felt like the first sunny day in months, he didn’t want him to be alone.
So, he’d walked over, cheeks blazing from the coarse breeze and skin flushed with the creamy thick sweater he wore overtop of his frame. Of course, the cat had found him right as he stepped on the porch, and Marcus had opened the door before he even tried to knock.
Marcus seemed reluctant at first when Sejanus had asked if he wanted to take a walk with him through the forest. Sejanus briefly thought it was because of that tree, and he’d assured Marcus they could go another way if he didn’t want to come across it again, but he only shook his head and told Sejanus he needed to change out of the clothes he’d slept in.
He’d returned in a brunette jacket and discolored jeans, and once he stepped out into the sunlight, Sejanus couldn’t help but notice how unwell Marcus looked. His face was strung with something he couldn’t exactly pinpoint, it almost appeared as basic tiredness, with his lowered features and slow movements as they circled for the trees. But there was another element that dwelt beneath the surface, it was eerie. He hated not knowing what was going on in his head.
He tests the waters first. “Have you eaten?”
Marcus doesn’t turn to him, he ducks beneath a hanging branch as they arrive in the homely woods. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Sejanus said softly, and when Marcus lazily twists to face him, irritation now clouding his eyes, he frowns. “Marcus—if you aren’t feeling well, we can go back. You really look sick.” he explained, Marcus sucked on his bottom lip, he then sheepishly smiled. “Maybe I can ask Ma to make you some soup.”
Marcus declined the soup offer, then kicked a teeny rock that sat next to a log. “Probably needed to get out of that house anyway,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Too dark, I think.”
Sejanus tried to untangle that. “Did something happen?” and when he’s greeted with nothing but silence and an odd glare from Marcus, concern flares up in his chest. “You can tell me.”
The creek comes into view, and they begin to walk alongside it, Marcus didn’t look comfortable. Sejanus could see the outline of his knuckles through his jeans, he would not look at him. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
Sejanus’s brows wrought together in charity, he plants his feet in the spongy dirt to keep himself from moving any further, Marcus stopped, too. “I would not.” he said, “I told you I meant it when I said that I was here for you, didn’t I?”
Marcus suddenly sat on one of the bigger, flatter rocks that was next to the rushing stream, thankfully, there was room for one more person. Sejanus could see tadpoles and various colors of fish swimming beneath the shimmering water as he brought himself down.
Marcus took in a prolonged breath, his shoulders rising with it. “I couldn’t move when I woke up this morning.” he then eyes Sejanus, as if he was ready for him to continue. He nodded in response. “I could only look around, it’s like I was… Frozen. And there was a shadow. Hanging over me.”
Sejanus hasn’t ever heard of that before, being stuck upon waking up. And what, a shadow? Lingering above him? It sounded horrifying. And terribly familiar. “That’s the first time it’s happened?” he asked quietly.
“The frozen part, anyway.” Marcus informed him, “shadows are nothing new.”
Sejanus doesn’t speak for a dim moment, as Marcus’s words had struck through his skull. “What do you mean?”
“What do you think?” Marcus’s tone was almost humorous, but still bold. “What I don’t see while I’m sleeping, is what I see while I’m awake. That’s what I mean.”
Sejanus then realizes what he was saying. He was hallucinating, bits and parts of the Games. Before them, too. Of the children who have died behind him. He remembers now, why it’d sounded so familiar. Marcus’s voice rings in his head: the dead bodies hanging above me while I was in a cage.
No wonder Marcus looked so sick. Every new thing he finds out about Marcus’s pain after surviving, breaks his heart a little more. Marcus must’ve recognized the pure horror in his face, as he abruptly shoots up and attempts to walk away.
“You think I’m out of my mind, don’t you?” Marcus spat, he sounded hurt, and like he was about to cry.
Sejanus rises so briskly he gets lightheaded. “No!” he choked out, matching Marcus’s pace within seconds. “No, I don’t. I don’t at all. You’re… you’re so traumatized, Marcus. I feel so horrible for you. I can’t even tell you how much I think about what you’re going through.” he finally wraps around him, Marcus’s glint, drowned in threatening tears, trembles when Sejanus’s own heartful gape collides with him.
He’s insanely close to him, now. So close he could feel the heat from his body heating up his cheeks, causing a burst of fire to spread within his ribcage.
Sejanus could reach forward and wipe away the single droplet that’d curved along the bone of his nose, but all he can do is take in how beautiful Marcus is.
Marcus blinks away his tears and pins his gaze downward, Sejanus snaps out of the daze he’d fallen into. “What can I do to help? You know I’ll do anything.”
“I don’t know,” Marcus answered morosely, Sejanus nearly bent down so he could see his face, as his tone of speech had spiraled into hopelessness and his face was still directed into the ground.
Sejanus tries to think for himself. “You said your house was too dark. Is it… payments related? I can—“
“No. It’s not that.” Marcus shook his head, Sejanus felt a tinge of embarrassment for himself. “It’s just my room. It’s small and… My light has been broken for years, I don’t have anything else.” he explained softly. “Even with the curtains drawn apart, it’s dark.” he steps past Sejanus, his next words as silent as the wind. “It brings everything out.”
Sejanus follows him, his shoes now drenched as he trudges far too close to the creek. “I might have something,” he said. He remembers having a nightlight when he was little, he was uncertain if it even worked now, but it was worth a try. And if it didn’t, it wasn’t like Sejanus wouldn’t go to the store for him.
Marcus slowed down once more, and Sejanus spotted him picking at the scabbed gashes that trailed up his arm. After that night, he’s been glancing out of his window, staring at Marcus’s yard for what seemed like hours. Just to be sure he didn’t hurt himself again in his sleep. But he never saw a thing, thankfully.
Of course, he wasn’t one-hundred percent positive that the sleepwalking had stopped, if it was, it wasn’t ending in Marcus’s arms doused in blood, as he had no recent marks. That’s all Sejanus could hope for, if anything. He doesn’t know if he could see Marcus like that ever again in his life.
“I would sleep on the couch but,” Marcus cut off his scratching once he realized that Sejanus had noticed. “It’s—“
“Covered in dust?” Sejanus poked in.
Marcus squinted, a brace of suspicion gracing his face. “And… you know that, how?”
“I thought you knew that I helped you home that night.” Sejanus said, Marcus’s expression then began to twitch, as if he was remembering. “Sorry, I never said anything.”
“It’s fine,” Marcus shrugged, eyes tearing away from Sejanus. He couldn’t help but think he was ashamed of himself.
The memory of the stitched furniture and shiny appliances he’d gotten for Marcus’s rebought home comes to mind. Marcus fixing the siding whilst Sejanus swept broken glass into a pan. The love in Marcus’s eyes, the flares in Sejanus’s stomach. He wanted to feel that again so badly, and Marcus’s house needed fixing.
“Hey, I was thinking,” Sejanus shattered the sudden stillness that crowded them, Marcus’s brow perked up. “I could help you clean it up, just like that one time.” he insisted, a smile on his lips, “and you can do the yard work.”
Marcus sighed. “It’s not going to help.”
“Why not try?” Sejanus queried with a slight shrug. “It may not help with the darkness, but… You loved it last time. It made you happy.” he said, “if there’s even a chance of seeing you like that again… I want to try. I want you to try.”
Marcus blinked, a glossy look of deliberation around his sunken eyes. Like he was envisioning the result. “When?”
“How about today? If you don’t have any plans later?” Sejanus asked tenderly, his mouth curving into an offering grin.
Marcus thought it over. “You’ll think it’ll be done today?” he questioned broadly. “It’s a mess.”
“I’m in no rush.” Sejanus replied, “it took us weeks last time, remember? But it got done,” he began, “we can do it—you can do it.” he encouraged.
Marcus seemed to release a breath that relaxed his entire body. He then leant back, his tears completely dry. “Alright,”
Sejanus’s smile only heightened, a fury of excitement blossoming with it. He’s about to open his mouth to say something along the lines of great! When he witnesses Marcus practically jump out of his skin, a near silent, slithering sound then occurs. With Marcus now away from the creek, Sejanus could see a snake under one of the rocks with his wavering eyes.
Sejanus looks back at him, and can’t shake the fear that was on Marcus’s face. He knows why it’d startled him, it wouldn’t take much to figure that out. The snake was majorly bright orange, but there were hints of black and white along its scales, no holographic rainbow in sight. He redirects his attention to Marcus once it scurries further down the stream.
“Are you okay?” Sejanus asked, shifting himself in front of Marcus unevenly, as if to shield him from it.
Marcus confirmed without a word, bobbing his head. The fear had somewhat deflated, and was replaced by mere discomfort. “Let’s go back then, yeah?” he said roughly, motioning for the widened gate of the forest.
He then twisted on his heel, grating against the broken leaves that scattered all throughout the woods. Sejanus let him walk alone before eventually forcing himself to move and trail behind, continuing to keep his gaze plastered on the backside of Marcus’s frame as he sauntered in his footsteps.
Two hours later, and Sejanus had finally gathered enough cleaning supplies to get started. He’d been running back and forth between his house and Marcus’s, as he’d kept forgetting things, over and over. His father had looked at him like he had three heads when he bursted through the front door for the fifth time, groaning about missing rags and other sorts of products.
His father then mumbled about how he’d better bring them back because his Ma still used them, and she wouldn’t be happy when she came home from her sisters’ to her entire cleaning closet empty, Sejanus assured him he would. Though he had mostly been bluffing, if Marcus had needed it, he would leave them there. They had enough money to replace them.
On his final trip, he’d dug through one of the drawers by the stove, certain he’d seen that nightlight inside. Or something like it. And when he at last pulled his hand free from the mess of trinkets and other miscellaneous items his Ma had shoved in it over the years, his skin smelt of the cherry apple wax melts she had burned throughout the day. But he had the plastic, stained nightlight in his grasp.
Its age on the outside showed, however when he plugged it into the outlet that was directly ahead of him, it was gleaming like new. He switched out the lightbulb anyway. As he’d noticed a slight flicker and he didn’t want to give Marcus something damaged, he shoved it in his vast pant pocket and scurried into the cool air, gathering the forgotten supplies he’d come for on his way out.
Sejanus had just returned to his porch, arms full of cleansing powder, window cleaner, and hardwood polisher when Marcus had spoken right as he was about to step inside. “This… won’t take that long, I’ll come in to help once I’m done.” Marcus said, hands wrapped around the handle of the lawn mower that he’d pulled from his backyard, he’d still had some oil tainting his fingers from refilling the engine.
“Okay,” Sejanus smiled, then when Marcus’s features had morphed into an affirmative-enough expression, he turned and disappeared inside.
It wasn’t particularly dirty. There wasn’t trash, or anything rotted that lay around. It was simply, well, untouched. With the dust and cobwebs that spread across the floors and in the corners of the walls, he’d poked his head in Marcus’s room, too, it hadn’t been as messy. Neither was his bathroom. Just the living room, which connected to the small kitchen, needed cleaning. So, it shouldn’t take weeks like it did before. He might even be able to finish it today, or at least get a good chunk of it done.
After deciding where to start, he begins to wipe at his wooden, circular dining table. Moments earlier, he had to move a big wad of cash from the timber surface to a nearby counter. He wondered where it was from. As he’d known Marcus had received his weekly payments from the mines in the mail, and it would’ve been odd for it to be sent in such wrinkly condition. He’d also known that Marcus had taken good care of his money, it wouldn’t have been lying around like this if it had meant something to him.
Realizing he was probably overthinking it, he moves onto the kitchen once he rubbed the chairs and legs clean of gray puffs.
As he scrubbed at the counters, washed away the blemishes in the sink with powder, he quickly settled on the fact that the sound of a lawn mower was terribly loud. Marcus had been going up and down the side of his house now, Sejanus looked out of the skinny window that graced above the faucet, and couldn’t stop himself from studying Marcus. With his jacket now discarded, his stout upper arms were visible and glistening, even through the sleeves he could see the shimmering sweat.
His dark, black hair was damp as well, some of the moisture had escaped and slipped down his sleek jaw and neck, skin glittering below the glowing sun. It all enhanced his beauty, really. The sight causes Sejanus’s mouth to go dry, and his eyes to go wide when Marcus looks up. Awkwardly, he goes back to rubbing the already soaked sponge against the silver bowl of the sink, as if he hadn’t been caught drooling over his best friend, heat sprouting within his body. What was it with Marcus’s house and his stomach bursting into flames?
Even if Marcus was attractive beyond words, it didn’t take away how distracting the sound of the mower was. Dropping the sponge, he began to wander around Marcus’s living room, searching for something to drown it out. He didn’t have a television, so that was off the table immediately, and had basically wiped out his options entirely. He’s about to give up and accept that he was being dramatic, until he comes across a wide box sitting on the arm of the couch.
It had a wooden exterior, a clear shield covering the inside, Sejanus lifted it, and instantly recognized by the slender needle that it was a record player. He’d remembered his Ma having one when he was younger, she’d listen to her tunes whilst she cooked and cleaned, she’d seemed so happy. Sometimes he’d dance with her. But he hasn’t seen it in his house for years, perhaps he’d ask her about it.
Unlike the countless other things in Marcus’s home, it was completely clean. Not a speck of dust was evident on the glass. Could it have been a present? Maybe from one of Marcus’s friends from the mines.
So he did accept gifts.
He’s frowning when he picks up the cracked paper case that withheld a large disc. It looked old. Super old. He’s never seen anything like it, or heard of the person’s name that was printed on the bottom. He realizes this is probably the same music his Ma had played. He places the record on the plate, and gently drags the spike onto the ridges. At first, it sounded groggy, and had skipped from lyric to lyric incorrectly. But, in seconds, it started to play. And it was beautiful.
Somewhat enchanted by the sweet vocals of the woman’s voice, it really gave him a kick, and he was able to make some great progress. From cleansing the entire kitchen until it was sparkling, to knocking down the cobwebs, spraying the windows and clearing them up with a rag, dusting the sills, the furniture, and eventually mopping and sweeping the floors. He’d taken a broom and wiped down Marcus’s bedroom and bathroom, too.
He stood at the furthest side of the house to revise his work. It had looked a lot better, it looked like someone lived here again. All he needed was Marcus’s approval. As he walks toward the front door, he turns away for a split moment just to take in the new, clean scenery, and flicks the light on. It must’ve taken a lot longer than he had thought, as the sun was setting.
He thought Marcus would come back in by now, he’d said it wouldn’t take long. And with the music replacing the sound of the mower, Sejanus would have no idea if he’d finished or not. Suddenly worried, he reaches for the door knob to go and call for him; he’s greeted with the forefront of Marcus’s frame instead.
The impact nearly knocks him off his feet, but Marcus attains his arm with a hard grip. “Sorry,” Marcus said. “For that and for taking so long. Didn’t realize how much grass had overgrown, I guess.”
Sejanus misses the calidity of his palm when he lets go. “It’s—It’s fine.” he blinked, cheeks flourishing with the contact. He then glances behind over his shoulder. “Well, what do you think?”
Marcus’s eyes were bright and big, taking in the interior. He slowly passed him, gliding his fingertips along the clean counters and on the couch once he stepped into the living room. He stopped in front of the record player, and tapped the top. “You figured it out.” he peeked up at Sejanus, even from the far side of the house, he could feel the electricity coming from his stare. His heart picks up in his chest. “One of the guys from work gave it to me, said it’d been in his basement for years or something. I thought it was broken.”
“It skipped a little—but it works.” Sejanus laughed, moving from his original position to where Marcus was. “It’s pretty. The music.”
“Yeah, it is.” Marcus’s eyes hesitantly drifted to him. What Sejanus was feeling in that moment could’ve drowned him to death. Despite the quietness that slipped around them, his mind had never whirled so loud. The mellow illumination that draped across Marcus made him look so heavenly, he was golden. Inside and out.
There’s been many instances over these past few months where he’s wanted to run into Marcus’s warm arms, but they have all been overpowered by this one. He could feel the thickness of his adoration for him trickling and coating the bones of his ribs. He’s missed this. He’s missed his Marcus so, so much.
“You okay?” Marcus asked, completely unaware of how much of a mess Sejanus’s brain was.
“Of course.” Sejanus shook away the building intensity. He must’ve had a strange mix of expressions on his face for Marcus to point it out. I wish I could say it aloud is what his conscience echoes to his friend, he already knows what words it was referring to, and as Marcus opens his mouth to say something, the words in question overrun his voice. I love you.
They weren’t wrong. They would never, ever be wrong.
“Sorry, what was that?” Sejanus called quite noisily.
Marcus was by the fridge, he opened it and bent downward, then popped back up with two cans of beer. “I asked if you wanted to drink with me. Outside.”
Sejanus, of course, agreed. “Sure.” He crossed the distance for the kitchen, and took the cold metal can from Marcus’s outstretched arm. “Thanks.” he said, and followed him to the porch.
Marcus had sat on the lowest stair, while Sejanus perched on the second highest. With his shoes directly next to Marcus’s bent elbow, he was looking down on him from the step above. It was fairly silent, Sejanus could only hear the sound of a bug flapping his wings and buzzing into the porch light, along with the occasional sound of the two of them drinking.
He’s in the middle of deciding that the beer was slightly too sweet when a voice causes the liquid to freeze in his throat. “Thank you,” he hears Marcus say, then shifts to the side in an attempt to look at Sejanus.
Sejanus grins. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.”
He didn’t. This was nothing compared to what Marcus did for him in July.
“Yes, I do.” Marcus disagreed with a gentle tone, “I wouldn’t have been able to do that on my own.” he confessed to him, Sejanus placed his can on the crown of his kneecap. “You’re a saint.”
He blushed not just because of Marcus’s use of words, but because it has felt like old times again. It sounded like something Marcus would say when he was teasing him, trying to make him laugh. Although he knew he was not kidding here, as his face had been as stone-cold as ever.
“I told you I’d do anything.” Sejanus said, and Marcus had smiled at him.
“True to your word,” Marcus joked with ease. Sejanus was thankful he was relaxed, and took a drink from his can, accidentally allowing his face of disgust to slip. The taste wasn’t god-awful, but it was bitter and strong. Marcus takes heed to his expression. “Don’t like it?”
“It’s manageable,” Sejanus assured, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
Marcus just giggled. “It’s the only thing I’ve got, sorry.” he said, then after a dull second, he spoke again. “Why were you at the Brutus Bar last month anyway? Didn’t seem like your thing.”
“I was bored,” Sejanus answered truthfully, “and I was kind of… losing my mind. I thought a drink would help me out a bit.”
“Ah,” Marcus began, “it doesn't. Not for me, anyway.” he lifted his can to his mouth. From where he was sitting, Sejanus could see that his knuckles were bleeding again. They certainly weren’t like that earlier, had the yard work irritated them?
“I think you should try and go to the hospital for your knuckles, Marcus. Really.” Sejanus insisted, Marcus’s nose scrunched up. “With the tree and, you know… the guy. You may have broken fingers and not even realize it.”
“I’ll live,” Marcus declared, then, bitterness crept into his tone. “Well, of course you’d know. Since you’re a fancy doctor now.”
“Paramedic.” Sejanus corrected him.
“Same thing to me.” Marcus shrugged, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about that. When did you get accepted?”
Sejanus grazed the back of his neck with his fingertips, anxious. “I got the letter in June.”
Marcus sighed, and Sejanus could tell it was a sigh of disappointment. “Oh,” he felt a stab of shame. “What made you want to do that stuff? I thought you’d go into something else.”
Sejanus is surprised by the interest. “I—I don’t know. I just… I’ve just always felt like I belonged in that field. My father disagrees, but I couldn’t care less about what he thinks.” Marcus nodded along, a timid waft of the cool night breeze grazed by them. “You thought I’d go into something else? What was it?”
“Like, a teacher. Or something like that.” Marcus told him.
Sejanus ponders on that for a moment. Honestly, it would’ve been a decent second option if he hadn’t been accepted into medical school. He’d spoken to a few kids during his training, and learned from Dr. Junia. About how to communicate with them on the scene if they were hurt. So, it wasn’t far off from his current path. He may have liked it a lot. But, genuinely, he only wanted to know why Marcus had come up with it. “What makes you say that?”
“You seem patient enough to handle kids, I guess.” Marcus replied.
Sejanus smiled, cheeks tightening with his lips, but an aroma of dismay still lingers in Marcus’s stare. “I’m sorry for not telling you. It took a whole week for it to actually sink in.” he explained. “I was planning to… then the Reaping, and—“
“I know.” Marcus jabbed.
Sejanus is taken aback by the sourness, but his agape mouth eventually falls into a frown once the realization hits him again. Marcus was trying to forget it ever happened entirely. He was merely ignoring it now. The Games. No matter how many awful tricks his mind played on him, from the shadows to the dreams. He was trying to forget.
Sejanus has known this all along, it was obvious from the start. And it is absolutely one of the reasons why he was shut out. Marcus had said it was because he didn’t want to put him in danger, but a part of Sejanus was brutally aware that he was a walking reminder of what he went through.
He doesn’t ever talk about it on his own, Sejanus knew that was just the way Marcus was. He never talked about his family either, or how he felt after the bar. He only talked about the sleepwalking and waking nightmares because Sejanus had convinced him to follow him into the woods. His poor, poor Marcus. He wishes things could have been different.
He slides down a stair, and rests his forehead on the back of Marcus’s shoulder, the muscle tensed on top of his skull. “I care about you, Marcus.” Sejanus whispered into his body, he was unsure if he could even hear him. “You don’t have to be brave around me.”
He listens to him inhale shakily. “I have to or I’ll fall apart.”
“Then let it happen,” Sejanus lifted his head a bit, he could still feel the heat on his lips from pressing on Marcus’s covered skin. “You know I’ve got you.”
Suddenly, Marcus deters the entire tone of the conversation and laughs. “You’re something else, Sejanus.”
Sejanus can’t help but do so, too. “You’re just now realizing that?”
“No, course’ not.” Marcus said, turning and matching Sejanus’s eyes.
They’re so terribly close, Sejanus could lean in and kiss his cheekbone if he wanted. He nearly settles on doing just that when an all too familiar meow runs up to them. Sejanus can’t help but hold his hand out to her. “She’s back,” he voiced with a fond simper.
She then makes her way to Marcus, he sets his can to the side to run his fingers through her white hairs. “Poor thing, she needs a bath.”
“Maybe we can give her one,” Sejanus suggests, teeth chattering. The wind had gotten chillier. “Sometime.”
“Sure,” Marcus shrugged, then seemed to notice his shivering. “Cold, isn’t it?” he asked sarcastically. Sejanus buried his chin into the inner fur of his sweater, smiling. Then, Marcus’s gape wandered to the dark sea that spread ahead of them, “and dark.”
Sejanus instantly remembered the item that was sticking out of his pocket. “Oh, that reminds me.” he reached for the nightlight, he’s surprised it didn’t shatter beneath his weight. “I brought you something.”
Marcus studies it. “That looks ancient.”
“Well, it’s… a decade old.” Sejanus told him, “but it works! I made sure of it.” Marcus didn’t appear convinced, but stood up with Sejanus anyway when he began to lean for the door. “It’s for your room.”
Before Marcus steps inside, he looks down at the white cat, almost as if he wants her to come in with them. A moment passes, and she runs off into the darkness. Sejanus waits until Marcus’s build veered for the warmth of his home to head for his bedroom.
He allows Marcus to take the lead, the glossy floorboards creaking with their footsteps. Upon reaching his door, he twists his bronze handle and motions Sejanus to enter first. He does so, and is able to fully examine Marcus’s private living space. He wasn’t paying much mind to it before, as he only came in to sweep and dust. He lets his eyes scan the room from top to bottom.
Marcus had two wooden nightstands placed on either side of his bed, they looked unique. With the deep carvings that swirled around the legs and surface, Sejanus’s first thought was that they were handcrafted. “Did you make these?” he asked, striding over to the one on the right and tracing his finger within the engravings.
He can tell by the bewilderment in Marcus’s face, that he wasn’t expecting the curiosity. “Oh… yeah. A while ago. One of my friends had a ton of leftover lumber and… let me use some of his tools.” Sejanus then espied the drawer that hung below the flat top, there was one on the opposing, too. “They’re not all that great, but—“
“They’re beautiful.” Sejanus interrupted, “I had no idea you did this kind of thing.” he could still hear the music from the other room.
“I don’t have the supplies or space for it,” Marcus informed him, “thanks, though. That’s about all I’ve made.”
“Well,” Sejanus removes his hand, he couldn’t believe he wasn’t aware of his talent. It truly was impressive. “Let me know when you’re taking commissions. I’d love to have one.” he said with a small smirk, wrapping around Marcus as he spotted an outlet.
“It wasn’t my stuff. But I’ll tell you beforehand if I plan to go over there again anytime soon.” Marcus replied as Sejanus bent down to plug in the plastic nightlight.
“Here, can you turn the light off?” Sejanus asked once its weak glow surfaced, Marcus obeyed and the weakness diminished. “There we go.” he brought himself to his feet, its brightness bloomed up to the ceiling and spilled down the wall. “Not too much, is it?”
“No,” Marcus answered, he began to rotate casually. “That’s a lot better.”
Sejanus could only hope that it would help him. He couldn’t even imagine how scared he was. Marcus shouldn’t be afraid to sleep, he wasn’t in the arena anymore. Sejanus would make sure he grew to know that, too. “Good,” he affirmed with a nod. “Just tell me if the bulb ever goes out, we have plenty at home, I’m sure.”
“I will.” Marcus said.
They share a soft look, he somehow can’t muster the strength to turn away, and when he does, his focus lands on Marcus’s knuckles. “How about I wrap those up for you before I get out of your hair?”
Marcus must’ve forgotten. “Oh, yeah. Fine.” he uttered, wiggling his fingers. Sejanus assumes the reopened cuts weren’t painful, but that wasn’t particularly a good thing.
Sejanus had done as he promised by redressing and cleaning Marcus’s knuckles, the other scratches that he had begun to pick at as well. Then, out of nowhere, he’d told Sejanus that he hadn’t sleptwalked since that night he found him. That was great news, he couldn’t contain his grin of relief. His face sunk into heat once Marcus smiled back.
It hadn’t taken long for him to finish, and as he stepped into Marcus’s kitchen, he realized it was past ten-o-clock.
“I should probably get home,” Sejanus clarified with an expression of guilt, he, in full honesty, didn’t want to leave Marcus alone. The shadow-thing had scared him, too. “My Ma hasn’t seen me since noon. She worries when I don’t tell her where I’m going.”
“Okay,” Marcus nodded, prying the door open for him. Sejanus accepts the coldness, stares down at their beer cans as he descends downward. He looks up at Marcus right as his humorous tone melts into his ears. “Go home, mama’s boy.”
Sejanus beams so harshly his lips could crack and bleed. He’s mid-turn when a realization strikes him. “Wait—you haven’t eaten all day. I could bring some dinner over if—“
“I have some leftovers in the fridge,” Marcus disrupted his offer, “stop worrying so much. Go home.”
Can’t help it. Sejanus thinks. But Marcus was pretty insistent about this, and their relationship has been improving so much recently. Especially today. He didn’t want to damage any of it. He complies. “Alright,” and takes a step backward, Marcus’s eyebrows lifted in satisfaction. “Thank you… for trusting me.”
Marcus’s chest inflated slowly. “Thanks for being patient enough to stick around.”
Sejanus peered up at him like he’d hung the moon and stars. “Bye, Marcus. Take care of yourself.”
Marcus grinned humbly. “You, too.” Then, as Sejanus finally started to walk away, he yelled: “and come take home this cleaning stuff tomorrow!”
“I will!” he shouts in retaliation, and after a pull of a string, his house is the only thing ahead of him. With the yellow porchlight glimmering near the front window, he could make out his Ma’s silhouette through the glass.
He doesn’t hear Marcus’s door shut his entire way home.
A shrill “Happy Birthday!” from his Ma is what he’s woken up with.
October eighteenth. His nineteenth year of being alive. A year past his golden birthday.
For the first time in six years, he is no longer eligible for the Reaping.
And he tries to celebrate that as his day goes on. Tries. With the burning gloom that flourishes beneath his ribs, reminding him that it would just be someone else. Another child. Another child like Marcus. Someone from home. It could be one of his cousins.
Despite the guilt that stabbed through him, he went into class with a smile. His Ma’s birthday wish remained his only one of the day until Dr. Junia had stopped him before the final bell rang. “Here,” she had said, handing him a thin card with colorful balloons on it. “Happy Birthday.”
Sejanus refrained from opening it in front of her, and thanked her with a grateful glisten in his eyes.
He didn’t have enough time to pass by the mines today, as his Ma had asked him to be home by three. Apparently his party started at four and she wanted him to have enough time to get ready, he promised her he would be. Even though he really did want to see Marcus, he didn’t get the chance to peek out of his window this morning.
Sejanus returns home and is welcomed with the alluring smell of vanilla and coconut. And birthday decorations. He shuts the door behind him with a small grin, and is unable to shake it off when Ma straightens up from the oven, an entire batch of cupcakes on her pan. A circular cake resides on the counter, too. Sejanus walks over to it, staring down past the plastic cover that sat overtop of it.
“It looks amazing, Ma.” Sejanus said with warmth blurring his chest. The white icing swirled around the decorated center, bits of coconut shredding spread along the plops of buttercream and had surrounded a big, hand-written form of his name and newfound age. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
Ma rests her hands on her hips, mit still on her left hand. “Well, anything for my baby’s birthday.” she dropped the glove and curled around the pointed counter to kiss Sejanus’s cheek. “Did you see the cupcakes? I usually only do vanilla and chocolate, but I thought of Marcus, so I made some strawberry ones, too.” her fingers clasp his shoulder, “he’s coming, isn’t he?”
“Yeah—he said he was.” Sejanus told her.
Marcus. He’s all Sejanus thinks about. And it wasn’t in the mourning way, either. Not anymore. They’ve become genuine friends again. After that night, when Sejanus cleaned his home, when they sat outside and talked, when he brought him the light to brighten his room, things had changed. But, their relationship was different than how it was before the Games.
Sejanus felt as if they were in this strange limbo. Between friendship, and something more. Something rigorous and something that’s been buried for months. The glances they shared were different, the way Marcus looked at him made him feel like water. The way Marcus talked to him was different. The way Sejanus talked to Marcus was different.
A part of him hopes Marcus feels that way about them, too.
They’ve gone on walks that lasted for what seemed like hours, discussing their very-so distinctive lives. They gave the white cat a bath together, too, whom they named Winter. Sejanus had gotten a scratch on the nose during it, Marcus was smart enough to hold her away from him when he picked her up, unlike Sejanus.
Sejanus had convinced him to have dinner with him at his house last week, just the two of them. He’d made everything by himself (Ma had been worried sick when he had come to her with the idea to cook alone, she’d given him some extra lessons beforehand), then, when Marcus complimented how amazing the food was, and helped him scrub all of the plates clean, it made it extremely hard for Sejanus not to kiss him goodnight before he left.
Even if things were good, so good it felt unreal, Marcus had still denied him when he asked if he wanted to stay overnight with him. He didn’t have to explain himself, Sejanus knew why. And had respected him for it. But he had begun to believe that Marcus was getting better, that he was really healing from the hell he went through in July. That’s all he wants for him, he could take as long as he wanted, an eternity would be fine. Sejanus would wait for him until the end.
Marcus had apologized, too. One night. For his non-disclosure over the past few months. Sejanus assured that he had never held anything against him, and that he understood everything, even if it broke his heart. Marcus’s face had fallen deeply at that.
I never wanted to break your heart is what his eyes had said.
“Why don’t you go ahead and change? I’m sure your aunt and cousins will be here early.” Ma suggested to him, and without a word, he obeyed her and ran up the stairs, his backpack tapping against his side.
He’d pulled his uniform over his head as soon as he entered his room and slipped his pants past his thighs, instantly scrambling for his mess of a closet. After spending at least fifteen minutes swiping through his clothing hangers and digging through his drawers, he settles on a phthalo green button up with thin black dress pants. Concluding the outfit with matching socks and shiny shoes. Of course, he had to run a comb through his thick curls and wash his face, but he thought he looked nice enough.
By four, his aunt and cousin had arrived with a card and birthday wishes. Growing up, his small number of guests at his parties confused him. As all of his classmates had bragged about how big their celebrations were, and when he let that sink in, the realization that he had no friends other than Marcus, that no one liked him because of his father’s past with the Capitol. It made him cry. But as he got older, he grew grateful that he had anyone. Especially Marcus. Ma, too.
By four-fifteen, there was still a guest missing.
Sejanus had begun to worry, as he had known Marcus got off work around three. So, he should definitely be here by now. His stomach rumbles with anxiety, he couldn’t stop it. “Honey, come and sit. He may just be running behind.” Ma said as he stood near the kitchen window.
Sejanus frowned, and while he was aware as to why Marcus wasn’t present, it did dampen his mood. A lot. He felt his heart strings actually being tugged on. He couldn’t cry at his party, and most definitely not in front of his father. He’s always hated crying in front of him.
He’s about to spin away and give in to his walk of shame toward the centered table chair, when a figure he’s analyzed far too many times started to sneak up to his porch. The recogization sets in at once, and Sejanus ushers for the door. He doesn’t even warn his Ma as he turns the knob and hops outside.
“I thought you weren’t coming!” Sejanus exclaimed, running for him.
“I’m sorry,” Marcus said with a sigh, “I got off work thirty-minutes late. Had to get dressed. Then I had to go to my friends to pick this up.” his head dipped downward, Sejanus’s eyes followed.
He was so excited to see Marcus, that he hadn’t even noticed the tall, wooden crafted nightstand right in his hands.
There was even a golden bow stuck to the surface. Tears spring along Sejanus’s vision.
“You remembered.” Sejanus had whimpered, he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t realize Marcus had taken the time to do this. The image of him shaping wood from scratch, carving those pretty lines all over it, just for him—for Sejanus just because Marcus knew how much he loved the ones he had in his home, made him practically catapult himself into Marcus’s body.
He’s worried he’s overstepped a boundary, until he feels the warmth of Marcus’s hands return his embrace. “You knew I would.”
It only makes him cry harder. “I love it.” I love you. Really.
They haven’t hugged like this in a lifetime. It’d been so long. It’d been so long ago that Sejanus had forgotten about how much Marcus’s arms felt like home.
Sejanus melts into him, burying the tip of his nose in the crook of Marcus’s neck. He’d smelt so good, too. Like sage and eucalyptus. He never wanted to let go of him, he would be encapsulated by him forever. Marcus could suffocate him if he wanted, as long as Sejanus fell by his side.
“Happy Birthday.” Marcus mumbled.
Sejanus smiled, pulling back with tears now slipping past his nose. “Thank you,” he looked up at Marcus, he was even more beautiful up close. He could feel his breath on his lips, he could tilt in and kiss him if he was brave enough. He wasn’t. “Thank you. For this, for being here.”
Marcus grinned, a shimmer of sadness in his glint. “I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you.”
He could echo his statement. Tell him it was the other way around, but it’s the confession that’s on the tip of Sejanus’s tongue. It’s borderline begging to come out, growing and sprouting in his throat like a freshly planted flower. He could feel the edge of the rosy red petals grazing the bones of his teeth. He wonders what else would change if he said it. He wonders if Marcus would say it back.
“Sejanus!” he hears a little voice say, it pierces through his skull and causes him to immediately adjust his head. It’s his cousin, Violetta, standing in the doorway with an unpleasant look on her face. “Abandoning your own party?” she yelled.
“Of course not!” Sejanus had to shout back, he regretfully unraveled himself from Marcus. “My Ma made strawberry cupcakes just for you, come on.” he patted his chest.
Marcus leant down and hooked the nightstand under his elbow, then motioned ahead when Sejanus’s shoes had remained stuck in the ground. “Lead on, birthday boy.”
Within thirty minutes, it felt like the best party he’s ever had.
He was right, Ma had outdone herself. The cake was perfect, the whole room had easily agreed, Sejanus couldn’t not smile at the shiny strawberry icing on Marcus’s lips. The gifts he’d received were amazing, too. He’d even ended up loving the pair of shoes his father got him. By the time six-thirty rolled around, his cheeks were sore from smiling.
His aunt and cousins had left, his father had gone to his office, and it was just him, Marcus, and Ma in the kitchen.
Sejanus had been plucking off the decorations that were taped to the walls when Ma spoke to Marcus, he listened closely. “It’s so nice to see you, sweetheart.” she had said. His cheek muscles become inflamed again with another grin.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Mrs. Plinth.” Marcus stated, Sejanus dropped down from the stepping stool he dragged from the hallway closet and looked over to find them doing the dishes together. Marcus’s sleeves were pulled up, soap bubbling around his wrists and fingers, a gentle expression on his face. He’d been cleansing the last icing-covered plate.
He would’ve stared at Marcus for hours if it weren’t for him catching Sejanus’s eyes. “Did you need me to carry your nightstand to your room?” he asked, shoving his hands under the running faucet water.
“Sure—yeah.” Sejanus agreed hastily, Marcus grabbed a loose rag from the counter to dry his hands, then returned to the living room to pick up the stand. Sejanus began to guide him up the staircase once he was close enough.
He doesn’t ever remember playing with Marcus in his room when they were children, they’d mostly stayed outside. So, the fact that this was Marcus’s first time seeing his space made Sejanus somewhat nervous. He hoped he remembered to pick up his discarded school uniform.
Sejanus presses his door inward and makes way for Marcus, thankfully, his floor was clean. He hefts the wooden frame up to his chest and stands in the middle of his room. “Left or right side?” Marcus questioned.
“Left,” Sejanus nodded, it looked lovely as Marcus brought it down by his bed. Grand. It fit exactly the way it was supposed to. “It’s so gorgeous, Marcus. It really is.”
“Glad you like it,” Marcus said, Sejanus quickly roamed toward it and began to outline the carvings, just as he did with Marcus’s. “It was his last batch of lumber. I got lucky.” Sejanus smiled at him, and Marcus’s features jumped as if he’d forgotten something. “There’s something I wanted to ask you, actually.”
His heart drops through the floor. “What is it?” his words had come out in shards.
And Marcus had laughed at them. “You sound terrified,”
“I am,” Sejanus admitted with a shrug, he would not deny that the plausibility of Marcus taking their relationship towards the line of romance bloomed in his brain. So, yes. He was terrified. “A little.”
“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to go out tonight. To the bar.” Marcus raised his brows tauntingly. “But… if you’re terrified—“
“I was just kidding,” Sejanus lied, he definitely is now. It felt like he was being asked on a date. His beating chest could collapse and shatter. “I’d… I’d love to. That sounds fun.”
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your Ma,” Marcus told him, “I mean, I’m guessing she was awake when you went down there that one night? So maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“No. She was definitely asleep.” Sejanus chuckled, “we can just say we’re going on a walk.”
“Okay,” Marcus complied, then his lips broke out into a sweet smirk. “Rebellious, are we?”
“I am here and there,” Sejanus replied, slight flirtation on his tongue.
Then, Marcus treaded backward towards Sejanus’s door, an indisputable look of idolatry drawn all over his face. “Did you want to go now, or?”
“Wait—I wanted to change first.” Sejanus answered.
Marcus glanced at his outfit. Sejanus shuttered. “Why? You look fine.”
He shrunk into himself, glowing with bashfulness. I wanted to dress nice for you, he thinks. “Because.” is what pathetically comes out instead.
“Solid answer,” Marcus jested.
“Go, will you?” Sejanus stood with a laugh, placing his hands on Marcus’s shoulders and showing him to the outside hall. “I won’t be long.”
“Fine,” Marcus said with his arms folded, “I’ll be outside, then.” Sejanus reminds him where he’s standing with widened eyes. “I mean—actually outdoors. Not here.”
He doesn’t start undressing until he hears footsteps roll down the stairs.
He found himself thinking of Marcus as he viewed his closet once again. What colors did he like? He doesn’t think it’s ever come up. But going off of the things he’s personally seen him wear, Marcus seemed to be drawn towards dull tones, mute or exclusively black. He almost fell into abiding by that, as he had countless faded, plain clothes. But something was telling him to do the opposite. Brighter. Vivid. Eye-catching.
Growing up, he wasn’t gifted much clothing from his parents that were colorful, and that eventually bled into his teenage and adult life. Brighter. Vivid. Eye-catching.
He had exactly two jackets that matched those descriptions.
One a calm tangerine, the other was an oceanic turquoise. Items he had bought for himself.
As if in a rush, he’d slipped out of his basic green top and into a silky white undershirt, leaving two buttons undone, and hurriedly decided on tossing the crisp orange suit jacket overtop of it. Faint stitches trailed up the sides and along the sleeves, he ran his fingers over each of them as he debated on changing out of his pants, he ultimately agreed on not doing so, as they matched rather nicely.
After spraying his bottle of musk cologne on his skin, he migrated from his room to the bathroom, and took what seemed like ten minutes fixing his wayward curls. Once he was pleased with how he looked, he finally began to tumble for the front door.
Ma was still in the living room, she stared up at him from the couch. “And where are you going?” she asked, clearly with lightness. She had never been the strict type.
“Out.” Sejanus replied with a soft laugh.
“Out? Where to?” her interest went unnoticed.
Sejanus sighed. “On a walk. With Marcus, of course.”
Ma hummed, unconvinced, she crossed her leg over her thigh, analyzing his clothing. “That’s a divine outfit for a walk.” she smiled.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” Sejanus said quickly, “I will be just fine.”
“Okay,” Ma tilted her head, and gave Sejanus a nod of approval. He knew exactly what she was thinking, with the mention of Marcus. “Have fun.”
He grinned one last time at her before stepping out the door.
Marcus is sitting on the stone stair below him, he instantly acknowledges Sejanus’s presence. “There you are,” he groans as he rises, “thought you stood me up.”
“I would never.” Sejanus asserted, stomach beginning to twist with tension as Marcus looked him up and down.
“Fancy.” Marcus said slowly, “never seen you wear that before.”
His flesh could literally roll off of his bones from how terribly he was blushing. His body felt like a furnace, even with the night chill. He couldn’t even conjure a response. All he could offer was a beam, and with his trembling bottom lip, it absolutely came off as awkward. Marcus didn’t mind it, though. He gave him one in return, making him feel at ease.
They walked side-by-side to the bar, fortunately it wasn’t silent for the entirety of it, and by the time they reached the tall black doors and stood under the red neon flickering sign, he was completely comfortable. Marcus pulled one open for him, and he slipped inside. The bell that rang after their entry was drowned out without delay.
With it being a Friday night, one of Two’s most popular drinking spots was bound to be packed. But it had slipped his mind, and he was taken aback by the sea of people. It was ten times worse than when he came in last month. He looked to Marcus for guidance, and he held out his arm.
“Just follow me,” Marcus leant near him, his mouth grazing the edge of his ear. He felt a wintry wave rush through him now.
Sejanus does as he says, and lets Marcus pull him through the crowd. Spilt acrid alcohol, gray cigar smoke, and the smell of paper bills had sidled into his nose, he pressed his face into Marcus’s shoulder to avoid it. After passing the thickest mass of people, he felt Marcus tug them down a hall.
Sejanus glances up, he did not see this section of the bar when he was here last. Or even an entrance to a hallway. And just as he’s taking in the gently decorated walls, Marcus places a palm on his back, and he’s stepping into a dimly lit room.
It was like a totally different scenery. The lights were a slightly tamer version of the sunny yellow ones that hung through the main constituent, and instead of a long, linear bar that stretched down the width of the place, it was circular, and had a sparkling noir top that wrapped around the bartender.
It was certainly less cluttered with guests, but it wasn’t particularly empty. “A lot quieter.” Sejanus commented.
“Yeah,” Marcus agreed, and Sejanus felt the inclination to let go of him. “They’re trying to keep it that way.”
“Marcus!” A voice called right as Sejanus began to follow him, Marcus stopped in his tracks, and looked upward at the man, it was the bartender. “It’s been so long.”
He held out his hand, and Marcus shook it firmly. “It’s only been a week.” he corrected him.
“Has it? Well, that’s a record for you.” The man had said with a laugh, Marcus smiled, Sejanus could see the agitation in his expression anyhow. It made his own stomach drop. His eyes then landed on Sejanus, and suddenly his friendly demeanor vanished, “who’s this?”
Sejanus couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize him. Not that he was complaining, but it felt like everybody knew his face by now. Marcus retreats to his side. “My friend, Sejanus. He won’t be a permanent guest. Just for tonight.” he filled him in, and that’s when Sejanus began to assume that this area was only open to certain people. Marcus must’ve been one of them. He nodded at him, “he’ll behave, I’m sure.”
“That’s what they all say.” The bartender said, joking.
Marcus led them to the seats on the very end, Sejanus had walked right into a cloud of cigarette smoke, it still smelt of it here. Once they sit, Sejanus can’t help but think about what the bartender had said. How many times has Marcus been in here since he’s come home from the Games? Besides when Sejanus had witnessed him beat that man half to death for him a month ago?
An echo drills through his head. It’s his voice: I thought a drink would help me out a bit.
Then, it’s Marcus’s: It doesn't. Not for me, anyway.
“Hey,” Marcus shakes him out of his dazing, he can only gaze at him with saddened eyes. “What did you want?”
He hadn’t realized that the bartender was right in front of him, and had already given Marcus a glass full of whiskey, he slid two slim bills across the surface.
“Wait, you don’t have to get me anything.” Sejanus said with a delicate tone.
“It’s your birthday, come on.” Marcus shot him down pleasantly, “and it’s the least I can do.” He forces the thin menu into his hands. “Pick.”
Another protest foamed in his mouth, but Marcus seemed very insistent. He pushes himself to unwind, and begins to take in the options.
There had been a lot of drinks, and he became overwhelmed by the sea of choices. Worried he was taking far too long, he rescanned the list and went with the first thing that had cherry in the description and hoped for the best.
After five minutes of waiting, the bartender served his cup to him, its bright red and green hues sloshing with the movement. “Happy Birthday, Sir.” he said to Sejanus. He thanked him with the kindest look he could form.
Silence was prevalent between him and Marcus for a moment.
“What’s the matter?” Marcus poked.
Sejanus swallowed the sip of his drink. It was sour, and he’d registered that he’d gotten a limeade. “Nothing. I was… thinking.”
The tip of Marcus’s boot tucks beneath the rim of Sejanus’s stool, causing him to face him directly with a twist. “You seem to do that a lot,”
You’re telling me. Rather than saying that aloud, he brings up their last experience here together. “I… I was a little worried about coming.” he knows what he’s about to say isn’t exactly true, but it slips from his mouth before he gets a chance to rethink it. “I was thinking of that guy.”
He thought about the incident, yes. All the time. But he wasn’t thinking of that man alone, he wasn’t afraid of him or afraid of getting pinned to a wall again. He wasn’t sure why, because he should be.
Maybe, in the back of his mind, if something similar were to happen—he’d known that Marcus would protect him.
Marcus scoffs, momentarily closing his eyes as he sips the golden liquid. “You know what would happen if he came in here.”
Sejanus smiled. He guessed he did.
“Anyway… is this like, private, or something? Only certain people are allowed in?” Sejanus asked.
Marcus lifted his shoulders with uncertainty. “That’s a good way to describe it.”
“Then why did you stay in the main section when you came in that one night? If you could just come back here?” Sejanus licked at the sugar that circled around the skirt of his glass, he remembers the men clapping Marcus on the back. Laughing with him. He remembers his birthing jealousy.
“Because the guys who invited me are total idiots when they drink, they aren’t allowed.” Marcus explained to him. “Once, I tried to let one of them come with me and he embarrassed me to death.” The look the bartender gave him right as they entered made sense, now. “Atticus was kind enough to give me another chance.” Marcus said with an overly sweet tone, it had obviously been sarcastic, and was loud enough for the man he was speaking of to hear.
Pausing his cup cleansing, he rotated and walked toward Marcus. “Yeah, lucky you.” He was older, Sejanus would assume he was around his father’s age. He then pulled a pack of cigarettes out, flicked open the lid, and presented it to Marcus, offering him a ginger-ended stick.
To Sejanus’s surprise, Marcus waved him off. “Trying to quit.”
“Oh, really?” Atticus questioned, he took one out for himself and pushed it into the corner of his mouth. “You know what, good for you. Sometimes I forget how young you are.” he began to stride for the back door, “I’ll be out for fifteen minutes max. Just ring the bell if you need me.”
Marcus’s attention drifted from Atticus to Sejanus, and then, their conversation began to take control again.
The drink he had wasn’t enough to make him full-on wasted, but he could feel his words and tone growing bubblier by the minute as he consumed the cool beverage until the very last few droplets, then, in a flash, everything Marcus said was hilarious and he was the prettiest thing in the room, Sejanus could only keep his eyes on him. He probably looked silly, however, Marcus had loosened up quite a lot, too. So, he most likely didn’t even notice his change in behavior.
Sejanus wasn’t aware of the gentle music playing from above until Marcus had asked him to dance.
Half-stumbling, Sejanus allowed Marcus to drag him to the pale, glossy floor. He took another look around the room, and observed the far side that he didn’t see when he first came in. There was a rectangular table, scattered with poker chips and playing cards, every single seat was taken by someone and they acted as if they were in a deep, serious conversation. Dark, ashy, translucent mist whirled around their group.
His gaze is following the smog until he feels a secure, warm hand on his waist. “Hey, why do you think it’s called a dance floor?” Marcus grinned downward at him, inevitably pulling him an inch closer.
“Sorry,” Sejanus then mirrored his expression, he could still taste the cherry and lime on his tongue as his mouth curved into a limp smile. He forced his mind to center Marcus and the music. “Are we slow dancing?” he asked with a sense of urgency.
“I don’t think this is the kind of music for anything else, do you?” Marcus’s eyebrows elevated, Sejanus’s heart began to fluctuate proudly, he could practically hear it in his ears.
It was the same music Sejanus had slipped in Marcus’s record player whilst he was cleaning, the same music he’d listened to his Ma playing when he was little, and the same music he was about to dance with the love of his life to.
“Nope,” Sejanus ducked his head in apprehension, and in a quick movement, looped his arms around the nape of Marcus’s neck. Marcus seemed addled by the rash contact, after a moment of recollection, though, he steered himself and placed his palms on Sejanus’s sides. A strange emotion sparkled in his eyes, Sejanus stared back just as fondly. “What?”
“Nothing,” Marcus said.
A hint of irritation plunged through Sejanus then.
Not toward Marcus, exactly. It was majorly toward himself. For not telling him how he felt. Why was he so afraid? If he had even a smidge of courage, maybe they wouldn’t be dancing around their genuine feelings right now—literally.
Why hasn’t he learned his lesson? Marcus could’ve died in that arena. He could’ve been gone forever. And what would Sejanus have done, then? If he never came home? Fester in his unsaid words? Hug the framed photo of their childhood class to his chest until the glass shattered and stabbed his skin? Dreamt of his entrancing face, forcing himself to believe he was real?
Yes. That’s what he would have done. He would’ve written letters to a ghost, as if he were still here. He would’ve gone to his funeral, spread his coffin with breadcrumbs, and covered himself in dirt by his gravestone as if it were a blanket just to keep himself alive. He would’ve ended up dying after him, anyway. Nothing would have mattered anymore, if Marcus had taken his place at the Reaping and died for it.
And it was so close to happening. He had almost lost him. Why hasn’t he learned his lesson?
He’s known he’s had this glowing admiration for Marcus since he was a child. And that it morphed into something farther than friendship just a handful of months ago. He’s loved him as his best friend for all of his life. If Sejanus had broken that barrier, how much would really change between them? What could possibly ruin something like that?
The solitary answer Sejanus can think of is, of course, the Hunger Games. But, he knew that wasn’t true anymore. The past few months have been terrible for both of them, days and weeks of pure heartbreak and sorrow. Days and weeks of Marcus locking himself inside of his own cage while Sejanus desperately searched for a key in a suffocating serape of darkness.
The point was, the darkness of the Games had lightened. Lightened just enough for Sejanus to make out the shape of the key. Just enough for Marcus to see him. And just enough for them to find each other again.
“You’ve never looked at me like that before,” Sejanus pointed out.
He feels as if he has seen those eyes before, though. Maybe. In Marcus’s home, in March. After he’d reclaimed his place. The rising flames that bursted through Sejanus’s lower half due to the shine that hazed over Marcus’s pupils.
It was meant to be taken as a lighthearted joke, despite that, Marcus wasn’t laughing at all. “I have,” he attested stoutly, “I don’t think you’ve ever noticed.”
The sensation he prayed to never feel again that day instantly shot up within him.
Sejanus took in an anxious breath. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
“I did.” Marcus said in a tone that could only be detected as sadness.
Sejanus’s lips tightened. This was taking a turn. “I look at you… all the time.” he assured him, Marcus blinked heavily. “I think of you… all the time.”
“I think of you all the time, too.” Marcus echoed, “you’re the only thing I could think about in the Capitol.”
“Me, too.” Sejanus’s voice shook, “I stared at our television screen until my eyes burned. Seriously.” he then frowned, deeply. “All I wanted to do when you came home was run into your arms, and—“
“I’m sorry.” Marcus interfered, “I really, really am. I didn’t even feel like a real person then. It felt like I had died.”
“I could see it in your eyes,” Sejanus said. “I just… I thought you hated me. I thought you regretted saving me. I hated myself for letting you go.”
“Don’t,” Marcus told him, “I didn’t even think twice about it. I would’ve been a pathetic excuse of a man if I did.” The bar’s lights had dimmed even more, and still, Sejanus could make out every fraction of his face, sincerity traced all over his features. “You protect the people you love. That’s what my dad said to me throughout my entire childhood. Again and again, until he was gone.”
“Marcus…” Sejanus pried.
But Marcus ignored him. “And I didn’t get to protect my baby sister. So I’ve already lost everything,” he then paused, Sejanus’s vision began to blur as soon as the mention of Lucilia came from his mouth.
“Everything but you. I couldn’t let you die.” Marcus’s teary, gentle gleam meshed with his again. “I went in there with the intention of not coming back. I never wanted to kill. I never wanted to give them a show. When I died, that’s the last memory I wanted Two to have of me. I wanted that to be the last thing I ever did for you.”
“I couldn’t live on if you were only a memory.”
A bite of guilt coursed along the structure of Marcus’s appearance.
“I held onto that intention until that very last moment. Watching those kids kill each other… It made me think of everything I didn’t do. Everything I didn’t say…” Marcus began, Sejanus could feel his hands fall to his hips. “Then that boy, Treech, swung his ax. And I realized that I had to come back to you.” he stops. “He might’ve had someone back home, too. I guess I’m selfish for that.”
“You are not selfish.” Sejanus shushed him promptly. “That may be the last possible thing you are, Marcus.”
Marcus didn’t seem to believe him, he continued on anyway. “When the flash of his weapon cut into my cheek, swiped across my face, it was the least of my concerns. Because I knew I was about to die and—I didn’t want to die without you knowing how… how I really felt about you. If volunteering wasn’t enough of a confession, I wanted to say it to your face.”
Sejanus, starstruck, almost asked: How do you feel?
Then, it hit him. It hit him so hard he could’ve sank to the floor. Marcus has already said it. You protect the people you love.
He’s loved him all along.
His mind had felt like it’d been thrown into the eye of a hurricane, dizziness overtook him while Marcus kept talking. “I didn’t regret anything until I saw the life leave his body right in front of my eyes. I watched him die, and accepted I was a killer on the train ride home, even after this random man shoved a bunch of money in my pocket,” he said, Sejanus was seconds away from tumbling into unconsciousness. “I decided that I couldn’t be around you if I was a killer. The one thing I pledged not to be, you know?”
“Yeah,” Sejanus coughed, he hoped Marcus didn’t take notice of his overwhelming nausea.
“I thought you’d be scared of me. And, the truth is… I was scared of myself, too.” Marcus continued to hold him upright, “The sleepwalking thing only made me feel worse. I felt like I’d changed.”
I’d still love you the same if you did is what blooms in his throat, but it doesn’t come out. What does come out is: “I think I’m going to be sick, Marcus.”
“What?” Marcus exclaims, attitude shifting as he supported Sejanus’s weight. “I’ll get you to the bathroom—hold on.”
Snappily altering positions, Sejanus’s arm refuses to unhook itself from Marcus’s backside as he basically hauls him towards a gray colored door that was, luckily, nearby. Marcus twists the knob and swings it open, Sejanus jumps past him and latches onto the porcelain toilet as his cheeks freeze with sickness.
He didn’t know how long he’d actually vomited for, but in that time span, he’d thought Marcus had left the room. He wouldn’t have blamed him, it was, understandably, disgusting. From someone that wasn’t in the medical field’s point of view, at least.
He looks up to see him by the sink, swaying a brown paper towel under the dripping faucet.
Marcus’s eyes lock with his, and he begins to walk over, lowering himself to a knee. Sejanus feels his fingers wrap around his opposite shoulder, pulling him close as he dabs the cool towel on his forehead. “Don’t get sick all over your fancy jacket, now.”
Sejanus managed to smile, a tiny laugh escaping his lips. After it died down, he must’ve accidentally released a whine of discomfort, pressing his face into the side of Marcus’s neck. “You’re gonna be fine, alright?” Marcus told him, Sejanus tried to nod. “It’ll pass.”
They stay like that for a while, Sejanus leant into the quiet beating of Marcus’s pulse while Marcus ran his hand up and down his shaking arm. He’d tossed away the jacket, as he’d gotten unreasonably hot, so he was only in his undershirt. It resided in Marcus’s lap.
“Hell of a birthday, huh?” Marcus asked humorously once a good chunk of minutes had gone by.
Sejanus felt well enough to actually answer this time. “Yeah, it was.” he could sense the chuckle that Marcus distributed, it made his stomach pool with warmth. He gathered the strength to teeter himself backward, as if he was trying to look at him, and when he did, he became aware of the trepidation that dwelled in Marcus’s longing stare. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing.” Marcus looked at him, “just accepting the fact that your Ma’s gonna kick my ass when I take you home.”
Sejanus had laughed so hard he could’ve triggered another rise of vomit. “You know she would never.”
As they chat back and forth on the floor, giving Sejanus time to regain his energy, he can only tell himself one thing.
Never mix a love confession and alcohol ever again.
“Marcus,” he began, Marcus lifted him to his feet, a shred of lightheadedness remained. “Can you promise me something?” he halted.
“Go on,” Marcus urged him, touching his lower back and guiding him out of the bathroom.
Sejanus slid his palms to Marcus’s shoulders, ceasing them both from walking any further. He glances downward at Marcus’s own hands, he studies his scars. The scars that he’d scratched himself, the scars he thought he deserved. “Promise me… you’ll never hide from me again. No matter what happens.” he stared straight into Marcus’s eyes. “Please.”
Marcus seemed to not expect that, as his happy-like expression fell, adjusting to the sternness in Sejanus’s words. “Yeah,” he said, he almost sounded breathless. “I promise.”
It didn’t take much for Sejanus to acknowledge that Marcus was not having a good day.
At first, he thought he was coming down with a cold. As it was the end of November, and the winter season was rolling in rather quickly now. He’d been given packets upon packets by Dr. Junia, about how to prevent illnesses and how to treat them, a lot of his training was centered around that this month. Although it all was pretty basic knowledge, he didn’t mind the extra information.
He made his way over to Marcus’s house after a busy day of school, and had expected to be greeted with a bright smile from him, like how it’s always been these past few weeks, instead, he was greeted with a Marcus who looked absolutely terrible.
It was a glare he hasn’t seen in a long, long while.
“Are you okay?” Is all he can say.
Marcus steps back, opens the door for him. “I’m fine.”
“Did something happen at work?” Sejanus shrugs off his jacket, hangs it on the rack Marcus had made a few weeks ago. “I’m sorry, your eyes are so glassy. You look sick. Are you running a fever?” He puts his palm across Marcus’s forehead.
He grunts at the contact and jerks Sejanus’s hand away. “No. Can I not have a bad day without being sick?” he retorted crassly, Sejanus backed away and cradled his hand as if he had slapped it. “Sorry. You’re right, I feel like shit. I haven’t been able to shake it.”
“I can tell,” Sejanus relaxed, letting his arm drop. “You don’t feel warm, though.”
After spending a gracious amount of time with Marcus recently, he’s grown to understand his body language at the drop of a hat. Not that he didn’t know him before all of this, but now, it was like they were truly connected. And right now, he knew Marcus was nervous. He didn’t want to tell him what was going on.
Their relationship hadn’t taken the turn Sejanus had expected after his birthday. After Marcus had literally confessed to him whilst they were dancing. He thought… that they would be able to talk about that. He thought wrong. Everytime Sejanus could feel it blow up within his chest, he pushed it down.
He didn’t know why. What if Marcus hadn’t meant it the way he interpreted it? And that’s why it’s never even dared to resurface? Sejanus settled on the realization that he was a total fool, and tried to forget it.
It was hard to do that.
With Marcus allowing Sejanus to cup his jaw, angling his head upward as he shaved his face, looking keenly into his eyes until his stomach burned with butterflies. With Marcus letting him wear his warm clothes—that smelt just like him, home. With Marcus coming over for dinner every other day and helping him and his Ma clean up afterward. With Marcus resting his head on Sejanus’s shoulder as they danced slowly throughout his living room, the notes of the loving music flowing from the record player.
It was hard to do that.
Sometimes, he pondered on the possibility of Marcus knowing how Sejanus felt, and he was making a tease out of it. But he knew Marcus wasn’t like that, he wouldn’t mess with him in that way.
Who knows. Maybe they were both fools.
“I’m just hungry. Probably.” Marcus said, and went to look through the fridge.
“Do you want me to make you grilled cheese?” Sejanus followed him, “you had the stuff for that yesterday.”
Marcus glances to the floor. “Yes, please.”
“Okay,” Sejanus grinned at him when his shimmering gaze met him again, “go sit, you know it won’t be long.”
Marcus listened, Sejanus kept an eye on him until he had to duck below his sink to delve for the pan. He springs back up, grabs a spatula from the drawer, reaches for the butter inside of the fridge, and just as he places it down on the stove, he hears the front door click shut. And Marcus is gone.
“Marcus!” Sejanus cries out in disbelief, he lets go of the pan’s handle. What was he doing?
His immediate thought was that he was heading for the woods, as he had admitted to Sejanus that he occasionally trudged down there when he needed fresh air. But with it being November, it got darker much earlier, and it was pitch black out.
Sejanus yanks the door open, and finds Marcus sitting on the bottom stair of the porch. Head in his hands, as if he was crying. He can’t stop his feet from barreling downward.
“Marcus, tell me what’s wrong. Right now.” Sejanus said strongly, “I'm worried sick.”
Turns out, Marcus was not crying. “I can’t even think straight, Sejanus. Please.” he shook his head, “give me a minute.”
Sejanus’s knees ached as he pushed himself up. “Can I get you anything, then? To help while you’re out here?”
“Yeah. A cigarette.” Marcus answered.
Sejanus thought he was kidding. He hasn’t smoked since he said he was quitting at the bar on his birthday. “I thought—“
“Sejanus.” Marcus warned, “in the nightstand on the left.”
He was certainly not joking. Sejanus nearly runs face first into the wooden door trying to unlock it.
Striding toward Marcus’s bedroom, he turns the knob with trembling hands, and hesitantly slips inside. Despite the countless days they’ve been around one another, Sejanus hasn’t been in here since he plugged in that nightlight. His eyes darted between the two nightstands that surrounded his bed, the bedding was twirled and tangled.
He heads for the right stand without thinking, and tugs the drawer by the circular knob.
What he’s welcomed with was, in fact, not cigarettes. Instead, it was a bunch of papers. He knows he shouldn’t go through Marcus’s things, but maybe the pack had been under the stack. In the midst of leaning forward, he notices handwriting was scrawled all over the material.
Handwriting that looked just like his.
Sejanus snatches the paper on top, it only takes seconds for it to click.
Marcus had kept his letters.
To confirm, he digs his fingers in between the towering sheets, tears them out and rereads the writing. It was true.
He opened and kept every last one of them.
Sejanus sits on the bed, suddenly feeling as if a ton of weight had fallen onto him. He couldn’t believe it. Marcus even kept the smaller cards that he had put inside of the boxes of treats. Did that mean he accepted them, too? He could only hope so.
He’s about to place them back inside, grinning from ear to ear, tears of pure joy threatening to infest his vision—when he turns one page over.
Marcus didn’t just keep the letters. He wrote responses to them.
Palms beginning to sweat out of shock, he forces his sight to remain clear. And his brain to stop malfunctioning.
I want things to be good again.
— Me too.
I wish I could have saved you from this. It hurts to even think of you.
— Stop thinking of me if it hurts you.
They had been short, but they meant everything. Everything. He began to flip through more of them.
I still take the longest way home just to see you at the mines. I don’t think you notice anymore, I miss you.
— I look for you when you walk away.
He fails to keep his tears under control. He begins to cry, and is practically bawling when he lifts up one of the first cards he ever sent to him.
Thank you. I’d love for you to come and talk to me when you’re ready.
— We shouldn’t be around one another anymore. Forgive me, it’s my fault.
Sejanus drops the card inside the drawer, closes it, and covers his face with his hands, sobbing into them. It felt like July again. He felt just as heartbroken. Even if things were good now, it hurt all the same. The reminder that Marcus had chosen to suffer alone solely because he thought it’d protect Sejanus made his head pound with grief. Love.
He’s never going to find someone like Marcus ever again in his life.
He swabs at his watery eyes, tries his best to wipe away the tears. Marcus was probably wondering what was taking him so long. He stood, and remembered that he had told Sejanus the left nightstand. Not the right. He almost laughs at himself as he steps around the bed frame, and he genuinely does once he grabs the small red lined box, along with a lighter, from the correct drawer.
On his way out, he swipes a thin blanket from the back of Marcus’s couch, and reaches for the door.
Marcus doesn’t turn to look at him when he steps outside, but Sejanus could see that he was visibly shivering from the cold. He gently brings his feet down, one step at a time, and drapes the fleece over Marcus’s body, then sits directly next to him. Cigarettes and lighter in hands.
Marcus takes them. “Thanks.” he said, immediately plucking the lid open and ripping one out, he lit it just as hastily. As he begins to inhale and release smoke into the air, his attention shifts to Sejanus. “Scoot up. Don’t wanna blow this in your face.”
“I don’t care,” Sejanus muttered, he scooted close enough to where their outer thighs were pressed together. He lays his head on Marcus’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut.
He could hear Marcus release a harsh breath, he was unsure if it was in annoyance or amusement. Either way, he feels the warmth of the blanket flap over his body as well. Sejanus didn’t mind the silence that followed afterward, he could fall asleep like this. In Marcus’s proximity, resting on his frame, listening to his breathing.
“I couldn’t move again when I woke up this morning,” Marcus reveals all of the sudden.
Sejanus wakes up instantly, sitting up and gawking as if he’d betrayed him. “What? Why didn’t you—“
Marcus interjected. “I didn’t want to talk about it. It was the worst one I’ve woken up to.” he said, Sejanus let him speak. “I thought it was my sister at first… but it was this little girl. From the Games. I recognized her because she—she kept coughing. I could feel her getting closer and choking me.” he went on, “then, there was a boy. At the end of my bed. Entire figure blackened out, like always. Like a shadow.” Sejanus laid his head on his shoulder again. “I could still see his eyes, though. Bloody and staring right through me.”
That easily explained his poor mood, his sick appearance. It reminded Sejanus that he had seen this in Marcus before. Not that he’d forgotten. That would have been impossible. With the description of a shadowy corpse hanging over him while he was glued to the mattress? It remained in his mind ever since Marcus had trusted him enough to tell him.
Sejanus wants to say sorry. Because he is. He truly is. He wants Marcus to be free from that arena so badly, too. He’s living a nightmare. But Marcus knows how sorry he is, so rather than saying it, he works his hand in the mold of Marcus’s free one.
He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he was afraid Marcus was going to slap it away. Through the worry, he can feel it being held back.
Sejanus smiles into Marcus’s soft clothing. He luxuriates in the feeling, he could melt and solvate away. He’d felt so at home, so whole, so human with Marcus’s being flushed against his. Even with the horror that had incarcerated them both. He clenched Marcus’s osseous hand harder.
“How about… I make us grilled cheese, and…” his eyelids separate, he glares out into the darkness of winter nightfall. “I stay with you tonight.”
“I don’t know…” Marcus started.
“Just this once.” Sejanus suggested with a stutter, “it could… help.”
“Help? I think you’re just saying things.” Marcus said.
“I mean—maybe? You slept alone in the arena, right? All the time? If you knew that I was next to you, would the same thing happen?” Sejanus couldn’t even think of an answer to his own inquiries.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “That’s not exactly something to… test out.” he sighs, “if I didn’t have a past of beating a tree to death while sleepwalking, then maybe.”
“Well, I’m not a tree. At least I don’t think so.” Sejanus humored, Marcus gave him a little half smile, flicking his cigarette to the ground and letting it die in the dirt.
“You can look a lot different in the dark.” Marcus told him.
Confusion struck him. “What about your nightlight?”
He looked at Sejanus shallowly. “It went out.”
“Marcus! I told you to tell me.” Sejanus vaulted to his feet, ripping his hand away from Marcus’s in the process. He planted it on his hip as a replacement. “I’ll go get another bulb right now.”
“No, don’t bother.” Marcus stopped him from retreating home, “it’s not the bulb. It’s the actual nightlight. It’s burnt on the inside, I checked.”
He supposed that was bound to happen, with it being over a decade old and all. “Great,” Sejanus groaned, planting himself back down next to Marcus. With his fists deepening into his cheeks, he manages to glance over at him. “But it worked while it lasted?”
Marcus nodded. “It worked.”
Sejanus softly grinned in relief, and felt himself gravitating toward Marcus once more. “I’ll get you a new one.”
His inner knee is then encircled by a set of caring fingers, squeezed and let go. “You don’t have to get me anything,” Stillness returns to fill in their unspoken words, cloaking across them just as the blanket would. Within moments, Marcus’s voice returned. “How was school today?”
“Oh, fine. Apparently we’re visiting the hospital again next week.” he straightened, gazing right up into the sky. “and I absolutely will if it helps you.” he said as he gradually brought his eyes down to Marcus.
Marcus ignored his last comment. “Is that… a fun thing, or?” he asked, producing a sound of terror when a fuzzy white creature had slinked around his ankle. Sejanus felt a string of giggles emerge from his chest. “What’s your problem, Winter?”
“You’re definitely her favorite,” Sejanus reached to pet behind her ears, he tipped away. “It can be. I like to learn, but I hate having lunch there. Hopefully I don’t forget to bring my own this time.”
“Better than a field trip to the mines though, I bet.” Marcus claimed as he let Winter hop in his lap.
“Well, yeah. We only go down there when something happens,” Sejanus informed, “I was scared to death the last time we had to go. I thought you were hurt.”
“Awe,” Marcus cooed, his gape melting into tenderness. “How sweet.” he teased and, leant forward to tuck back one of Sejanus’s loose curls.
To avoid Marcus noticing the swift soar of heat that crashed onto his face, he buried his palm into the scratchy concrete and launched himself upwards. “How about we go inside now? For dinner?” he began, his embarrassment as clear as the atmosphere above.
Marcus laughed with a cough, Sejanus glared at him from where he was standing. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” Marcus responded, Winter jumped out of his arms and ran as he arose. They’re practically standing chest to chest, eyes fixated on one another. His lips tingle with temptation, and if things had taken a different path after his birthday, he would’ve dove closer to kiss him. But Marcus takes a step back, his mask of comfort falling.
Sejanus could see that he still wasn’t feeling good. “Please come in. You’ll feel much better after eating, I promise.”
“Fine,” Marcus shrugged, and allowed Sejanus to push open the door for him, he wrapped the blanket overtop of his wrist and carried on. Sejanus let the warmth of Marcus’s house swarm him as he trailed closely behind, cradling his own build.
Marcus treads for the kitchen and begins to fetch the ingredients from his pantry and fridge whilst Sejanus flicks the oven on, before he can retrieve them from Marcus to start putting the sandwiches together, he’s already begun doing so. By taking one of his dull knives from the tiny drawers, slicing the pieces of cheese and bread off.
Sejanus reaches for the butter he’d discarded earlier and plops a corner of it onto the pan with the spatula. He watches it melt. “I wish you had some buttermilk,” he pouts. “Where did you get this from again?”
Marcus peers over at him, pausing his bread-sawing. “Oh, this little girl. She had a stand set up with her mom. By the market.” he said, “got the cheese from her, too. She told me her goat, Clove, would be very happy.” he turned back to the bread, smiling. “I don’t remember seeing milk, but she probably had it. I’ll look the next time I go up there.”
Sejanus gripped the handle of the stove and tilted his head back. “I haven’t had goat’s milk since I was little. I’d do anything for a glass right now.” he sighed in a dramatic manner. “You have to take me to her.”
Marcus sidestepped next to him, placing a sandwich down on his pan. “Her mom said they set up everyday, so we can go first thing in the morning. If you want.”
“You don’t have work?” Sejanus asked as he flattened the utensil on top of the bread. He had class in the morning, but if they made it there early enough, it wouldn’t be a problem. Marcus shook his head. “And… is that a yes to me staying over?”
Marcus finished prepping the next sandwich, watching Sejanus flip the current one. “Your Ma would be okay with it?”
“Of course,” Sejanus assured, “are you? I know you’ve said no to me before, I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself again.”
Marcus leant against the front of his fridge. “Maybe you’re right. About me knowing you were next to me, or something. It… might help.” Sejanus took one of the napkins that sat next to the oven’s surface, scooping the first sandwich off and handing it to Marcus. “I don’t know everything, and I’m never gonna find out what really helps if I don’t try anything. Like the nightlight, I didn’t expect that to help as much as it did.”
Sejanus was appeased by the rise in spirit. “And it’s not like I have to, you know, sleep in the bed with you. You have a couch.” he reminded him as he tossed his own sandwich onto the scalding hot pan. Marcus walked past him with no response, an expression of disapproval on his face. “What? Do you—do you want me to?” he had asked with a sense of drollery.
Marcus made a fuss between his bites of grilled cheese. “Nevermind.”
It felt nice to be the one teasing for once. “You totally do.”
“No.” Marcus denied.
Once the final side of his sandwich finished toasting, he lifted it onto another napkin, twisted the stove off, and joined Marcus at the table. “What’s so embarrassing about it, huh? We have before.” he props his chin under his palm, staring him down. Marcus avoids him. “I won’t say anything else about it if you tell me the truth.”
Marcus swallows a deep huff, pressing his back into the frame of his chair. His eyes then glide to the window, nervousness fuels Sejanus, and he begins to fear that he’d actually upset him. “Yes. I want you to lay with me.”
Flurries swim within his stomach, and he can’t hide his smile as he eats his food. He could see Marcus slightly turn his head towards him in his peripheral vision, he pretends to be oblivious to it.
As they sit in silence, Sejanus almost wants to bring up the letters. Ask him why he never sent his responses. Tell him that he thought he was throwing them away this whole time. Admit that reading them made him cry. But he decides he will tomorrow, when Marcus is feeling better. He didn’t want to dump another emotional conversation on him when it was so late.
He ended up liking the quietude. Sometimes, he just liked to admire Marcus without saying anything. This wasn’t Sejanus’s first time, clearly. He’s been doing it for so long now.
Marcus is by the sink, filling up a glass of water and sipping it slowly. He dries his mouth with his hand, glaring out of the window that stretched above his faucet, Sejanus observes him and ruminates on what he could be thinking about. Sleeping? The Games? Sejanus?
He understood Marcus’s body language, what was going on in his head, however, was a different story.
“Thanks for dinner,” Marcus said, and headed for his room without another word.
Sejanus stands, pushes his chair in and moves the pan to the sink, telling himself to clean it in the morning before they leave for that little girl’s stand by the market. He flips the kitchen and living room lights off shortly afterward, following in Marcus’s footsteps.
He enters and the first sight he sees is Marcus rummaging through his dresser. Sejanus scoots around him, sits on the right side of the bed. His finger immediately lifts and starts to trace the swirls on the nightstand. “You still like yours?” Marcus suddenly questioned, unfolding a shirt.
“Of course I do,” Sejanus replied, “I’ll love it forever.” his eyes fall to his shoes when Marcus pulls his top over his head. He leans down, untying his laces just to dodge him entirely.
“You’ll have to give me ideas soon,” Marcus said, he began to change into his sleep pants now. “Since Danne is letting me use more of his stuff. I want to try new things.”
His changing makes Sejanus look down at his own clothing. He certainly did not want to sleep in a button up and tight waisted pants. “I thought the coat rack was really nice. Maybe you should make something for the kitchen.” Sejanus suggested, then, met his gaze from below. He’s somewhat anxious to ask. “Can I borrow some clothes?”
Marcus hummed in response, and Sejanus took it as a yes. He moved for his open drawers. “Borrow.” he laughed, “I haven’t seen that one long-sleeved gray shirt in weeks.”
Sejanus blushes. “I—I’ll bring it back. I forgot to wash it.” he doesn’t have the bravery to admit that he didn’t on purpose. He loved that shirt in particular because it smelt just like Marcus and his house. It was somehow so much warmer than everything else he owned. It felt like Marcus was there with him when he had it on. He didn’t want that feeling to go away. “I’m sorry. I won’t steal these ones.”
He felt slightly worse when he was reminded that Marcus didn’t have a large selection of clothing. He realizes that the vest, button-up, and pants he wore on Reaping day were nowhere to be found; he must’ve thrown them away.
“I’m just messing with you. Keep it,” Marcus sat on the left half, “if you like it that much.”
“No, it’s okay.” Sejanus rejected as he chose a plain navy blue shirt and light shorts, taking a quick glance over his shoulder before he started undressing. Marcus was facing the wall, lying on his side. “I’ll make sure it’s in the next load.”
He enrolls in the bed aside Marcus, adapting to the loose clothes on his body when he slips his legs beneath the covers. Marcus shifts onto his back, glaring up at the ceiling.
Sejanus does the same, head flipped toward him. “Marcus,” he said in a whisper-like tone.
Marcus stretches his arm above him. “What?”
Sejanus gnawed on the inside of his cheek, tiredness throbbing through the corners of his eyes. “If… this doesn’t work, I could ask my professor if she knows of any medications that would help,” he pauses, unable to relax at the change in Marcus’s features. “I know you don’t like going to the doctor, but I want you to be safe. I want you to be able to live your life, even after what those people did to you. I think it’s worth considering.”
Marcus’s constricted brows ease.
“I’d be with you the whole time,” Sejanus scoots closer, leaning above him, his dangling fingers nonchalantly wandering and brushing through the thick pieces of hair that grew past Marcus’s ear. He could feel him shiver. “I wouldn’t let you be alone.” his hand flows from the side of his face, to his cheek, lightly tracing his scar with the outside of his thumb.
Just as he’s about to outline his jaw, Marcus gently seizes his wrist. For a split second, he believes he’s done something wrong, and works up an apology. However, instead of a warning, Marcus deeply kisses the center of his palm. It’s so close, so intimate, that Sejanus could sense every line, every crack and every damp piece of his lips on his flesh.
When he pulls away, Sejanus could feel his own sensitive lips shaking. Trembling. Pleading for his mouth to be on his. It was probably the most desperate thought he’s had in a minute. Because he knew that he was not strong enough to allow himself to feel that. To kiss Marcus, his best friend, his first love. To let that missing puzzle piece fall into place.
The only thing he’s strong enough to do is kiss the tip of Marcus’s nose.
He was awful, truly awful.
While the moonlight poured through the window, Marcus’s stare softened, he still looked at Sejanus like he’d done something glorious. “Any last wishes before we sleep?” Sejanus asked, voice raw and ragged.
“Yeah,” Marcus’s appearance saddened, Sejanus awaits for his request painfully. “Try your best not to touch me while I’m sleeping, okay?” and when Sejanus’s eyes widened, his canvas of expressions twitched. “I know. I just… have a bad feeling about it.”
“No, it’s—it’s fine. I won’t.” Sejanus nodded in agreement.
Marcus grinned, visibly drained. “We’ll talk about the medication stuff tomorrow. Whether this works or not. Promise.” he said, “and… other things.”
His heart leapt at that. Tomorrow. “Alright,” Sejanus accepted with a quick leer. Marcus tried to replicate it. “Well… goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight, Sejanus.” Marcus said, faint and weak.
Sejanus holds their shared stare until Marcus’s eyelids flicker close, and in seconds, he flops over himself.
Marcus had seemed to fall asleep instantly, but for him, it was definitely not as easy. Sejanus yanks the blanket up to his neck, buries himself below it and tries to stop his quivering. Because for some reason, he had begun to freeze and all he wanted was for Marcus to pull him close. Like how he did before. Even if he knew things would never be that simple again. He just wanted Marcus, that was it.
Regardless of his bumpy skin, crawling with chills, he had managed to squeeze his eyes shut. He could then hear the wind, Winter’s tiny meow, and distant voices. He kept them shut until he eventually couldn’t hear anything.
Even whilst sleeping, Sejanus keeps his courteous distance from Marcus. Forcing his knees to curl up into his stomach, knotting his feet and ankles around each other. It was necessary, to do this. If Marcus trusted him enough to lie with him, the least he could do was to respect his boundaries and wishes. To ensure that Marcus hadn’t made the wrong decision in allowing Sejanus to stay with him.
In the midst of the night, he could slowly feel his eyelids breaking apart, the sea of dullness that encapsulated Marcus’s square room had overtaken his vision, shielding him from seeing what had caused him to open his eyes. He squinted, adjusting to the sudden rustling, and finally realizes that it’s Marcus.
He’s asleep, clearly, but he is stirring, softly thrashing and whimpering like he’s terrified. One set of Marcus’s fingers were entangled in the bedding, so tightly that even through the darkness, Sejanus could see his knuckles flourishing a bright unveiling white. His other hand was dangling from the side of the bed, palpitating, and within a moment, he paws at his scar. Keeps wiping at it as if it was still bleeding.
His chest lifts and falls with panic, inducing a state of worry in Sejanus. He becomes more anxious as Marcus’s head keeps turning, entire body on the verge of convulsing and folding off onto the floor. His cries became slightly louder, his voice was jittery, briefly interrupted by hiccups or deep breaths, followed with coughing sobs. They were pleas of mercy, begging. Please, he put together. I don’t want to hurt you.
Sejanus had no doubt of which exact moment he was dreaming of. What should he do? Should he wake him? Try to tear him away from his horror?
Sejanus takes in a shy breath, bringing himself upward and tucking his legs beneath him. “Marcus,” he tried, hovering over him. Marcus only continues to fight the dead. “Marcus, wake up.” he repeats, a tinge more desperate and broader. It was becoming very hard to watch. Sejanus feels his arms functioning before he can stop them, and he jumps. Driving his sweating palms into Marcus’s shoulders. “Marcus!”
It’s not until Marcus’s pallid ringed eyes are glaring right into Sejanus’s, that he realizes how big of a mistake he’s made.
He instinctively leans away, detaching his hands from Marcus’s frame and shrinking back into his spot on the bed. Sejanus now expects Marcus to shout at him, drag him by his ear to his front door and kick him to the curb. He’d understand. He’d broken his only wish. But the expression on Marcus’s face doesn’t show anger, or aggravation. It doesn’t seem like he’ll kick him out.
Marcus rises slowly, his features are entirely too still, too calm and drowned with silence. He duplicates Marcus’s glaring eyes again, they’re completely clouded over. Sejanus quickly pieces it together.
He’s not awake at all. He’s sleepwalking again.
Sejanus has found him in the aftermath, of course. In the woods, with deep bloody scratches up his arms and ripped flesh on his fists that were wet and raw, that he’d inflicted upon himself. The pale barked tree that was smeared with red. But he’s never actually seen it unfold in front of him. He’s never seen Marcus look at him like this.
Stuck in his position, he surveys Marcus carefully. Marcus stares back at him just as rigorously. But is he really looking at him? At Sejanus? If he really was inert in this dream-like trance, who was he really looking at? That boy who attacked him in that arena? Treech? The boy that he eventually… his thoughts stop at once.
Marcus’s face adapts into a form of defense when Sejanus makes the poor decision to move for him. With his dark brows twined together, lips sucked onto the interior of his mouth. It could equate to a snarl. It detonates a specific appearance that reminds Sejanus of one of the nature documentaries he’d watched during school years ago, the fearsome eyes of prey. Of one that was planning to fight back.
It all registers. He doesn’t recognize Sejanus.
And with the pitch blackness of the room cocooning him, burying his features and likeness. He would look like a shadow. The shadows Marcus had told him about, the ones he would see at the end of his bed or hanging over him when his body was frozen. The ones that represented the other suffering, deceased children of the Games, that never got out. That had followed Marcus all the way home.
Sejanus knows exactly who he is in Marcus’s mind. He’s the boy with the ax, the boy who had hooked and split Marcus’s cheek with the blade. He’s Treech. The exact tribute that was destined to kill him and survive. With no choice, Marcus had conceded to do it, too.
And it plays out just like the real thing.
In an instant, Marcus puts an end to his dawdling plight and curves around the framing of the bed for him. Sejanus drops to the floor, and tries to brace himself. He can’t stop him, can’t fight him off. He wouldn’t even if he could. Marcus is entirely too strong. Too broken. Too traumatized. Sejanus swallows one last breath before warm, fortifying hands lock around his throat.
Marcus hurls him into the wall behind them, his neck still in between his palms, and Sejanus’s skull cracks against it. It hurts at once. He’s able to release a whine of pain, even with Marcus’s grip growing tighter and tighter. Sejanus knew he couldn’t succeed in waking him, but he finds himself squirming anyway. His knees knock into the frontal muscles of Marcus’s, the tips of his feet grazing the floor as he’s gradually lifted up the slates of wood.
Marcus’s thumbs pressed deeply into his throat, disclosing every single airway, Sejanus hadn’t taken into account how harrowing it was to not be able to breathe until now. This was Sejanus’s fault. All his fault.
Marcus was going to kill him for it. And Sejanus was going to let him.
Sejanus began to feel weak. His ears were ringing. His eyes, throat, and nose were kindling with a rising fire. Despite the flames, every inch of his skin was clinging and spreading with a piercing sensation of coldness. While Marcus’s hold had somehow gotten tauter, his vision got blurrier by the second. Black dots encircled his way of sight, vignetting it. He was really going to die here. In Marcus’s hands, in his arms.
With whatever glimpse of life Sejanus has left, he uses it to bend his crumbling elbow upward, latching his hand onto Marcus’s. He doesn’t attempt to pry him away, he simply bears his touch, cradling his scarred wrist. Thinking of how the same pair of hands had soothed him, soothed his aching finger. The same pair of hands and burly arms that had once hugged him, so close to where Sejanus could hear his beating heart. He loved these ones just as harshly as he did before.
No matter what had happened in that arena, he knew Marcus was no killer. No matter what those Capitol people had said or viewed him afterward. The guilt that he carried, the misery in his glint and the trauma that had destroyed him. Who had admitted to wishing the boy had killed him. That it should’ve been him.
But Marcus was just a boy, too. Even if the adults here treat him like he’s their age. He’s already gone through every child’s worst nightmare, losing his family, tasting death in the mines, and the most petrifying of all; going into the Hunger Games.
The only thought that rolls to the fence of Sejanus’s membrane while Marcus is strangling the life out of him, is how much he loves him. He was his everything. His rise and fall, his ruination and salvation. His savior. He was Marcus, and Sejanus would love him until his final breath.
The last thing he says before not being able to speak at all, is Marcus’s name.
The last thing he sees before not being able to see at all, is a face that reads as nothing but horrified.
And the last thing he feels before not being able to feel at all, is his defeated body being cradled by an awake one as he falls through hell.