Chapter Text
It had been less than a day since Simon got back, and he was even more of a mess than he was before escaping Stratford tower. His thoughts were tangled and twisted in his tired mind. As North would say, he was “Back to being the gayest fucking android possible”. His appreciation for the phrasing was nonexistent, but so was North’s sense of tact. Either way, the truth stung in its accuracy.
He was back to grappling with emotions he couldn’t control and wrestling with feelings he hadn’t asked for. Back to watching Markus from afar, caught between admiration and a deep, gnawing internal ache. Back to knowing he’d never say the words that pressed against the confines of his mind, threatening to spill out at the most inopportune moments. No matter, as long as they stayed internal, Simon could deal with them.
His thoughts moved on and were immediately overrun with what was on his mind from earlier, from when he had just gotten back.
Markus’ arms around him, whispered “I got you’s” as he held the other with as much need as he could physically muster. Simon was on the verge of tears, not that the other could tell. He felt safe, he was safe. It had been a long time since Simon felt safe. Since he felt home.
That moment replayed now, vivid and cruel in its clarity. Simon exhaled sharply, blinking out of his thoughts and running a hand down his face as his eyebrows knit together in thought. He stood up after a few minutes of blank thoughts. “Doomed,” a voice seemed to mutter in his head, “doomed to love your best friend.”
The thought came with a sharpness that made him wince. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to will the thought away, but the truth had already taken root. It had already begun weaving itself into every corner of his consciousness.
Simon was once more snapped from his, frankly overwhelming, thoughts, as firm footsteps signaled someone's approach. He was pleasantly surprised upon glancing up to see Markus.
His presence filled the room in an instant. His mismatched eyes, one of a vivid blue and the other of a soft green, swept the space as if cataloging every detail, ensuring there was no threat and no sign of danger. When his gaze landed on Simon, his expression softened. The tension in his shoulders melted away, and for a moment there was something raw and unguarded in his face. Relief. Fondness. A quiet, unspoken joy that Simon was here, alive and unharmed.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, the words less a statement and more a reassurance meant more for himself than for Simon, it seemed. His voice, low and gentle, carried a kind of tenderness that wasn’t lost in the quiet space between them.
Markus gripped the sleeves of his coat and took a few steps closer, his eyes flickering briefly over Simon in a way that made him feel both protected and seen through. It was as if he were cataloging every detail to ensure nothing was out of place. The concern in his gaze deepened, though it didn’t quite reach the earlier edge of anxiety.
“You alright?” Markus asked, his tone shifting slightly into something softer. Something more deliberate, more grounded.
The question made Simon’s chest tighten. How could he answer that truthfully? How could he explain the whirlwind of emotions that had been stuck in his chest since returning to Jericho? They weren't new emotions, Simon just hadn't put a name to them until he was on the brink of death. Simon shoo’d the thought away as he stared at Markus. His chest formed a knot at the mere sight of him and his eyes glazed over for a moment before processing the question. He took a beat more than he probably should have to answer.
“Yeah, yeah I’m doing good,” he replied, almost sheepishly as his finger scraped against his fingernail in an up and down motion in a sort of nervous tick. Simon continued speaking, “I..I’m glad to see you, Markus.” He smiled, a touch too genuine to be just happy. He didn't catch many of the emotions in Markus’ gaze or mannerisms. There was far too much on his mind to even focus on studying them, really.
He stayed silent as he stared at Markus, his hands moving to rub at the pocket of his pants leg absentmindedly, not exactly sure what to say in the moment. “How has it been here with…” he paused, the words without me going unsaid, instead replaced by “.. The others' constant bickering?” His tone was low yet unwavering, almost as if he just wanted to hear something that resembled some sort of normalcy again instead of the new androids interest and wonder, Josh’s pity, and North’s well hidden guilt. Markus’ face was unreadable to Simon, just as he’d thought.
His gaze stayed locked on Simon’s eyes, unable and unwilling to look away as if there was something captivating about them. Markus had once told Simon that his eyes reminded him of the sky. ‘But not the sky on a clear, sunny day. Closer to one where clouds drift lazily, filtering the light in a way that makes everything feel muted but no less beautiful. It’s like looking into a direct paradox of clarity and haze, a complexity that nearly mirrors you.’ Simon adored that conversation, it had made him feel appreciated in a way he’d never known he could be.
Simon cleared the warm thought as he looked right back at Markus. He had really pretty eyes as well, but Simon was too tired to formulate a poetic thought about them. He watched as guilt flickered across Markus’ face but chose not to comment on it before Markus was speaking again.
“Good. It’s been good,” Simon almost winced at the unspoken ‘without you’ that now hung between them, heavy and unacknowledged.
He must have realized the slip, as he spoke again with a more steady voice, “Would’ve been better if my favorite peacekeeper was there to stop the petty arguments.” The attempt at a light hearted tone felt forced but genuine. It was like Markus was trying to apologize without doing so directly
Simon watched him struggle to find what to say. His mouth opened as if to say more before closing again, caught in a silent tug-of-war. Finally, he settled on saying“I.. We missed you, Si.”
Simon could tell that Markus still felt bad about leaving him at Stratford, but he wasn't too upset. How could he stay upset when Markus addressed him so carefully? He gave a soft laugh at Markus’ attempt at humor. Even if the attempt seemed forced, it was sweet. He stared at Marcus for a good minute, smile softening at the other words, the “We missed you” making him sober up slightly. His soft grin was bittersweet, reflective of the feelings the other was attempting to convey. The feelings of his own emotions on the situation.
He knew his words were an apology, he knew that they were meant to say sorry for all the things that Markus believed were his fault. However, Simon didn’t believe he deserved that, no not from Markus at-least. Markus didn’t do anything, it was a high tense situation and he didn’t have a choice.
There’s always a choice. The thought was ugly as it crossed Simon's mind. He chose to ignore it entirely.
Simon’s grin lingered for only a moment before his expression was back to neutral. He mulled over the others words as he tentatively reached a hand out, grabbing Markus’ hand and holding it in his own. His mouth opened to speak, only for him to get lost in everything he wanted to say. His head was swimming in a sea of words of comfort that he wanted to give the other, genuine gratitude that he knew the other needed–clingy need that stuck to his body like wet bandages, hanging off him ready to be peeled away, revealing the love filled words and wounds of envy underneath for all to see–soft reassurance that he knew the other wanted.
Eventually he closed his mouth just as the other had done moments ago, opting to interlock their fingers and meet the others' gaze. Had his eyes always been that filled with emotion? When was the last time that Markus had let it out, when was the last time he had told somebody what he needed instead of them assuming, when was the last time I asked?
“I missed you too, Markus.” He said, silently accepting all the apologies and words that had been left unsaid and untouched, yet acknowledged by both.
Simon watched as Markus drifted his gaze downward, settling on their intertwined fingers. The sight seemed welcomed. Simon felt as Markus’ thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over the first knuckle of his forefinger. The was touch light but intentional. The simple act brought a small, genuine smile to Simon’s lips.
A tired, thoughtful hum escaped Markus, a sound seeming like quiet appreciation more than anything else. Markus inhaled deeply and leaned forward, gently resting his forehead against Simon’s. The touch was gentle but pressure filled.
Simon’s thirium pump thrummed in his chest upon feeling the soft intention behind Markus’ actions as he gently held his hand. He glanced at their hands, eyes lingering on his own. Dried thirium and harsh scrapes revealed glimpses of white on his palms. Simon's hands were filthy compared to Markus', which were clean other than chipped paint under his nails.
He didn’t know how Markus could hold him like this. How could he stand here and not see him as somebody that fulfilled their use for the cause? He didn’t know, yet he was incredibly grateful that he didn’t. Simon loved Markus, in a way he.. hadn’t believed was possible.
He didn’t understand how humans had done it at first, especially when their relationships consisted of dirty words and dirtier actions. They cared about each other but weren’t attached at the hip, why didn’t they just stay together constantly? If they loved each other so much then why did they separate?
But after seeing Markus, getting to know him, being there for him, and treating him like a normal person who he cares for instead of some end-all be-all savior, he understood. He understood why humans used needy words and harsh actions. He understood why people sobbed when their partner had to move away. He understood why humans sacrifice anything for the ones they love. And with this understanding, he also understood that he would do the same if Markus ever asked.
He appreciated Markus. He appreciated Markus in a way he didn’t think the other would understand if he knew. He loved the way Markus spoke about his past life and the way he got sentimental when repainting the walls of Jericho. He loved the way Markus held him, gentle but not as if he was breakable, more so a reassurance that he was okay, that they were both okay.
Simon sighed softly, gently squeezing Markus’ fingers as he relished in the forehead pressing against his own. He tightened the grip on the other’s hand slightly, silent pleas asking him to stay, to not let go. He stayed silent, his eyes closing to let the silence of the situation linger, unaware of the slow instinctive pull back of his synthetic skin along his palm.