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Sergio hasn’t felt the mark on his forearm for years. It would only feel warm whenever his other half was near, and since the two of them made sure it wouldn’t happen, it has been dormant ever since they parted ways. He would still look at it from time to time, even run his fingers across the black symbol, almost believing it would make him feel better. It never did.
When the familiar feeling roused him from his sleep, he was confused at first, then startled. Whatever it meant, he knew that the calm years were over. He wasn’t safe anymore. But he noticed something even more disturbing. The mark was less visible now, almost like it was fading. At first, he attributed it to the light, but within a few hours, there was no doubt. The black lines were turning grey. He didn’t know what to think of it. He didn’t know what else to do, so he just waited. The feeling of warmth intensified with every passing hour, and yet the mark would look fainter and fainter.
And then one day, Iker was standing at his doorstep.
Sergio didn’t say anything. He just stepped aside and let him come in, looking around and checking the empty, rainy street, a force of habit more than anything else.
Iker looked… Sergio couldn’t quite say if he looked any different than when he last saw him. He did look more tired, maybe a bit too skinny, but other than that, it was still the same Iker.
“They found me,” Iker said simply. “And it’s a matter of time until they will find you.”
Sergio sat in the armchair, feeling the upholstery sag, already accustomed to his body shape. It reminded him once again how much time has passed since he was here, alone.
“If they found you, how come you are here, warning me?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you be buried somewhere, then?”
Iker gave him a sad smile. “Yes, I would.”
Only then Sergio noticed the grayish, sickly color of Iker’s skin, and the thin layer of sweat on it. Panic gripped his heart like an iron glove. His hands darted across the table and he rolled Iker’s sleeves up one by one. Iker didn’t move, didn’t slap his hands away. There was some strange, eerie resignation in him.
It was there, on Iker’s right forearm, the one that didn’t bear the mark. A small, slightly raised, inflamed spot.
“You need to go to the hospital,” Sergio breathed out.
Again the same, sad smile. “I’ll be dead before they find out what they used on me,” he said. “I just need to know you’ll be safe.”
Sergio nodded feebly. He felt that’s he was on the brink of breaking down, but couldn’t allow himself to lose the last remnants of reason. “I have a plan B, don’t worry,” he said.
“Good,” Iker said. “You better start working on it now.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “You know what to do with it.”
Sergio took it from him reluctantly. It looked small and insignificant in his hand. Too small and insignificant, and not at all worth Iker’s life.
“I’ll start working on plan B if you go to hospital,” he said.
“I told you-“
“Not for them to save you,” Sergio said and swallows thickly. “For them to make it… easier. I don’t want you to die like an animal somewhere.”
Iker hesitated, but then nodded and got up. Sergio reached for him and Iker stepped back. “Better don’t touch me,” he said. “We don’t know what…”
Sergio closed his eyes. His body was aching to throw itself at Iker, but there was something instilled deep inside of him, inside both of them, that always made them think of themselves last.
“I’ll go see you tomorrow,” Sergio said.
“No. You’ll be the fuck out of here tomorrow,” Iker growled.
“I’ll call, then.”
Iker just smirked and walked out in the rain. That was the way they did it years ago, and that was the way they did it now.
The next morning, Sergio woke up in a motel room miles away, and reached straight for the phone on the nightstand before letting his hand slide down the receiver.
He didn’t need to call. The mark on his forearm was gone.