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It happens when Ethan is on the way home from the supermarket. It's dark, lamp posts barely lighting up the footpath. The moon shines brightly in the sky, and Ethan remembers wishing he could take a picture of it. He hadn't realised a figure had been following him. He turns down a pitch black alleyway, hoping to get home quicker. He's halfway through the alleyway when he's grabbed from behind and pushed to the ground. He's scared. The person, a man with a deep voice, talks about how he's a pretty one, a young one. He sounds high, or drunk, Ethan doesn't know. The man is pressing his face into the dirty concrete, his hands wrestling with Ethan's clothes and Ethan is begging him to stop. To let him go.
The man doesn't listen, and keeps going and going and going.
Until he does stop, and Ethan is left alone in the alleyway. His body is throbbing, his face scratched and probably bleeding. Ethan feels disgusting. Dirty.
It takes a long time for him to get up, his body shivering as he rights his clothes and begins walking home again. He cannot think. He cannot breathe. He can feel hands against his skin, around his hips and neck. He wants them to let go.
He makes it home, but he feels like he left a piece of himself in that alleyway. He cannot go back for it. He opens the door, stepping inside to be greeted with Spencer and Chica. He forgot that Mark was here. Then Mark is in front of him, looking worried and cradling his face in his warm hands. Ethan wants him to replace the hands branded into his skin.
He is asking him what happened, if he's okay. Ethan cannot hear him. Cannot answer. He wants to go back to that alleyway and die. He is then in the bathroom, watching as Mark pitters about the room, gathering supplies. Ethan never wants him to look at him, never wants him to know what happened. But Mark is wiping at his face so gently, looking so worried, that Ethan feels his chest burst and his face crumple with tears.
There was a man, Ethan gasps.
And Mark's own face crumples, like a sandcastle being swallowed by the ocean. Mark curls his arms around his shoulders and holds him close.
They stay like that for a long time before Mark is telling him to shower. Ethan does not want to be alone, but he does not want Mark to see. They compromise and Mark sits with his back to the shower, his presence solid and there as Ethan tries to wash the hands away with scalding water.
Mark does not look at Ethan as he dresses, whimpering as bruises ache and his hips twinge. He wishes he were in a different body. Then he is finished, and Mark is guiding him to the bedroom, pulling back the covers, where Ethan lays down on the mattress. He is calling for the dogs, letting them jump onto the bed and get situated surrounding Ethan's small frame. Ethan feels Mark get into bed too, carefully pressing himself against Ethan's back. He does not like it.
Ethan turns onto his other side, burrowing underneath Mark's chin and finds himself crying once again. Mark holds him close, stroking his hair so gently that Ethan wishes he could burrow inside Mark's heart and stay there, protected from the burning hands. I love you, Ethan murmurs, and cries harder when Mark responds with I love you too.
Ethan wishes he hadn't gone down that alleyway. Wishes he hadn't gone to the supermarket. Wishes he had stayed underneath Mark's arm forever, safe and whole.
Ethan cries himself to sleep, surrounded by the warmth of the dogs and Mark. Branded skin burning where it's covered by his clothing.