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It's shockingly quiet on the boardwalk tonight. It's not even that late, likely around eleven, but the steady fall of the rain must be keeping most people at bay.
It isn't empty per se, just quiet. All of tonight's concerts have been cancelled and majority of the rides are shut down, leaving only the gentle pitter-patter of the rain and the chatter of friends or part-time lovers to fill the silence. Paul is pretty fond of nights like these, appreciating the way that the quiet lets him relax and savor the feeling of existing.
Usually everything is so fast-paced, a mix of blurred colors and loud noise, and don't get him wrong, Paul loves the thrill of it, but sometimes it's nice to revel in the lack of all that. To have nothing more to focus on than the way his shoulder bumped against Marko's as they walked side by side, knuckles brushing with each step. Marko's humming beside him, and he thinks that he might've been able to recognize the song if it wasn't so off-key.
They're on their way to a small pizza shop at the end of the pier to get dinner for themselves and the others, two large pies and a side of garlic knots. It's a pretty long walk for such shitty food but he isn't complaining. Most people are hanging out on the outskirts of the boardwalk, huddled close under pavilions and streetlights, leaving the middle empty. There's plenty of space for the two of them to walk freely and keep their distance but here they are, pressed up against each other like two moons in the same orbit. Marko's skin feels almost warm whenever it touches his, despite being lifeless and slick with rain.
He feels a hand wrap around his and pull, making him stop in his tracks. Marko is pointing to a bench just a little further down the pier, his other hand still firmly secured to Paul's arm.
"Look. I think somebody left a Walkman." He tugs again at Paul's arm and the two of them are making their way towards the bench when Paul sees it. There's a small blue box in the middle of the bench, the pavilion overhead shielding it from the rain, and a small pair of headphones is sitting atop it. Marko picks it up and pops it open, showing the tape to him. It's a mix, and "The Best of Kim Wilde" is written on the side in the shittiest handwriting Paul's ever seen. He snickers and looks away from the tape to find Marko smirking at him.
"Don't you like Kim Wilde?" he asks.
"I don't like Kim Wilde." Marko reinserts the tape and slides the headphones over his ears. "I fucking love Kim Wilde." He hits play and the music is just loud enough that Paul can hear the tail ends of each note spilling out of the headphones. He doesn't know much about Kim Wilde himself but he finds himself wanting to, wanting to know which lyrics are pulling the corners of Marko's lips towards the sky and wanting to trace the rhythm that circles his hips as dances down the pier.
Marko turns around, a wide smile across his face, and extends a hand towards him.
"You coming, sweetheart?" Marko winks and Paul shoves him slightly, receiving a shove back. They push against each other as they walk, their bodies swaying together like a metronome, leaving Paul wondering whether or not their movements are in time with the beat of whatever song Marko's listening to.
He's humming again, this time slightly louder than before, tapping his fingers against Paul's thigh and mouthing the lyrics. Paul wishes he could read the words off of his lips, to memorise the song from Marko's soundless singing alone, and the thought almost scares him. He's a vampire. Vampires aren't supposed to feel this soft.
He distracts himself from it by focusing on the sound of the rain, the mellow drum of it against the wood. He can still feel Marko beside him, swinging along to the music, their bodies colliding occasionally. Every point of contact feels like it's been hotwired, alive with sparks and fire and a warm aftertaste, creeping up behind the initial bite and enveloping him in it.
Marko has to grab him by the shoulders in order to get him to stop when they finally reach the pizza place, his mind a tornado of Marko and the rain.
Marko slides the headphones down to rest on his shoulders, and he leaves the music playing. He opens the door and stands still, gesturing for Paul to enter.
"Ladies first." Hr huffs out a laugh.
"I'm the lady?"
Marko nods, smirking. "After you, miss."
Paul pushes past him, lightly punching him in the arm as he does so. They're both laughing as they enter, and it makes him feel light and airy, almost like he's flying.
He places the order with Marko crouched beside him, his eyes scanning over the slices of pizza sheltered behind the glass.
"What if we got anchovies on a pie?"
Paul makes a face, crinkling his nose and frowning. "You like that shit?"
"No. But David hates it." And then they're laughing again, returning to that easy rhythm that scares him so much. They spend the next fifteen minutes joking around, their thighs pressed together from how they're sitting on the floor, their backs against the display case.
At some point Marko places a hand on Paul's knee, the weight of it firm but gentle, and it makes his whole body feel alive. He's so tempted to take it in his own, to intertwine their fingers and trace along the backs of Marko's knuckles, but he resists the urge, focusing instead on the smell of sauce and dough behind him.
He nearly jumps when the man behind the counter shouts his name, his accent making the words sound rough and demanding. Marko laughs at the way his spine stiffens and he swears he can hear Marko mutter ''chicken-shit" under his breath.
Paul rolls his eyes as he stands, digging out a couple of crumpled up bills from his pocket and trading it for the pies and garlic knots. Marko holds the door for him again as they exit, but this time it's free from any snide remarks.
The rain is starting to clear up a little, and the groups of people are migrating back towards the center of the boardwalk. Paul doesn't necessarily mind them being there, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn't miss the open space.
The increased number of people means that Marko is walking even closer to him this time, their sides practically flush. If he got flustered more easily his cheeks might be bright pink.
He feels a soft pressure over his ears and turns his head to find Marko smiling at him as he transfers ownership of the headphones to him. Marko's hand slides down Paul's arm, stopping to rest just above his elbow. Paul turns the music up louder, hoping to drown out the screaming going on in the back of his mind.
"Do you like the song?" Marko asks, and he gives Paul's arm a small squeeze.
It sounds familiar in a vague way, and he assumes that he's either heard it at a mall or from the radio's of one of their victims, but it isn't a bad song. Something about kids in America.
"It's okay." He shrugs, but he's smirking while he does it.
"Okay? The fuck do you mean it's okay? Kim Wilde is unrivaled as a pop icon." Marko scoffs, turning his chin up. "You have no taste."
"I have no taste? Really?"
"Yeah, really! Your taste in music is shit!"
"If it's so bad then why do you keep stealing all my records?" He turns down the volume ever so slightly, trying to hear Marko more clearly.
"Because mine are all warped!"
"And who's fault is that?"
"Oh fuck you!"
"Fuck you too!"
Marko shoves him and he bumps into a tourist, earning a glare and the middle finger from him.
"Hey, Paul. Are you feeling a little hungry?"
"We're not eating that guy."
"Why the fuck not?"
"The pizza's gonna get cold."
Marko sighs, rolling his eyes. "You're no fun."
They spend the rest of the walk along the pier in relative silence, Paul listening to the kind-of sort-of decent sound of Kim Wilde, and Marko singing along to whatever song's playing in his mind.
Marko stops him again, shoving an arm in front of his stomach. He nods towards the beach and starts to make his way across the sand, heading in the opposite direction of the hotel.
Marko flashes him another smile, all crooked teeth and sharp edges, and Paul can see the playful glint in Marko's eyes. He takes the headphones off of his ears and shuts off the Walkman before shoving it into his pocket and jogging after Marko.
Just as he gets within arms reach of Marko he breaks out into a run, his howling laughter trailing behind him.
They're running together along the beach, Paul's long legs allowing him to catch up to Marko, and he stretches forward to grab Marko's jacket. One fist closes around the fabric and he tugs, knocking Marko's back into his chest, sending them both hurtling backwards onto the sand. The pizza boxes fall next to them, one of them opening just enough for the contents to spill, and suddenly one of the pies is topped with more sand than cheese.
"Ah shit," Marko says once he catches his breath, his laughter leaving his cheeks stained red. "The pizza."
Paul shrugs from underneath him, and the movement jostles Marko enough for him to start laughing again.
"David's gonna kill us."
"It's his fault for sending us out to get the food and not Dwayne."
"Or Star."
"Yeah, or Star."
They're both nodding, bodies still flush on the sand, and the weight of Marko on top of him feels so solid and so safe. It's grounding in a comforting way and he's so tempted to snake his arms around Marko's waist, to wrap him up and hold him close.
Fuck it. He'll give in just this once.
He brings one hand around to rest on the center of Marko's chest and the other finds a spot on his stomach. The touch is gentle, unsure, and he can feel Marko go still above him.
After a moment's pause Marko relaxes again, melting into Paul's touch. It's so much better than he could have ever imagined.
"I like this." Marko closes his eyes and lulls his head back, resting it against Paul's shoulder.
"Like what?"
"This, you know. Being here with you. I like that."
"You like me holding you?"
Marko scoffs and places his own overtop of the one on his stomach, interlocking their fingers as best as he can. "No shit I like it. I like you."
Marko's words make his breath hitch and his grip on him tightens slightly. "You like me?"
Marko's laughing yet again, and he's drawing small circles along the back of Paul's hand with his thumb. "Where the hell have you been that you have to ask me that? I hang out with you all the time. Paul, man, I got you that limited edition record like a week ago. Of course I like you."
Well shit. Paul's head is spinning, alive with so many thoughts. He's allowed to touch Marko and he's encouraged to touch Marko and Marko likes him. Marko really likes him. Marko likes him so much that he wants to be held and he wants to be loved and he might even want to-
"Can I kiss you?"
Marko rolls his eyes and surges forward, pausing just before their lips can touch. "I don't know, can you?"
Paul bursts into a fit of giggles, his lips brushing against Marko's as they laugh, and he eventually gets the confidence to silence them both with a kiss.
It's soft and sweet yet so alive around the edges, full of firecrackers and electricity. It's like coming home after a long time spent away, and being greeted with the surprise party of your dreams. It's messy and it's perfect and it's so uniquely them.
Marko is the first to pull away, his face hovering next to Paul's. His eyes are half closed and there's a mischievous grin on his lips.
"You kissed me."
"Yeah, and?"
"I think you should kiss me again."
Paul happily obliges, pulling Marko even closer to him and reconnecting their lips. By the time they make it back to the hotel the pizza is ice cold, long forgotten on the sand next to them, and David is just a little pissed. It's okay though, because neither of them mind; They were busy doing better things anyway.