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Hurt and sorrow rooted itself deep within Marshall Seo’s chest. He’s been betrayed by the one he held highest. How could Benedikt Montagov dare find a lover? A mere five months after Marshall’s death no less. As Benedikt and his new companion strolled through the city, Marshall stalked the pair from the rooftops, swiftly leaping over the narrow alleys between each apartment complex. From sunset until the moon hung high in the night sky, Marshall had trailed a few paces behind, listening in on conversations and eager to uncover the true purpose of the date. Was it true that Benedikt had moved on from grief, or was this a cruel falsity? Marshall had once prided himself in knowing all there was to know about the mysterious Montagov. For Benedikt was unlike his cousin, Roma, hard to read and always hiding his truest feelings. Where Roma had been harsh and unforgiving, Benedikt had been kind and unwilling to bring harm upon others. Roma had ordered a bomb strike that slaughtered a handful of Scarlets, while Benedikt would hold a loaded gun as a threat, but would never truly pull the trigger. That had been once true, until Marshall had died.
Observations made from his rooftop excursions showed that Benedikt had changed and Marshall no longer held the dignity of knowing Benedikt. It pained Marshall rather deeply, especially when he’d watched Benedikt during the first few weeks after his supposed death. He’d seen a grieving and angry version of the boy, one who no longer cared to filter his emotions and was unafraid of saying the things that came to mind, even if it hurt the recipient. Benedikt would occasionally leave the apartment after seemingly weeping with cheeks stained from tears and eyes marked red from the fingers that had tried their best to rid the tears from the world. Dark pools swam under his beautiful eyes, an indication for lack of sleep. Other times, in a burning red fury, Benedikt had marched into the streets and slaughtered any Scarlet who dared stand in his way. The once strong boy had grown thinner, his arms thin and face gaunt. He also became more aware of his surroundings, increasingly paranoid of everyone who came close to him. On one occasion, Benedikt had pulled a pistol out on Roma, who had snuck up from behind, his finger hovering dangerously over the trigger. Even after all the years Marshall had spent memorising Benedikt’s every move, he had flinched as he watched from the roof that day. That was not the Benedikt he’d left. Benedikt Montagov was unrecognisable, a stranger to Marshall Seo.
The longer Marshall tagged along on Benedikt’s date, the more sorrowful he became. Marshall knew he had to let go of his foolish hope. Their date was real and Benedikt had truly found a lover, he’d found someone to accompany him while he painted the streets in scarlet red blood. As Marshall makes a move to turn and flee back into the dark of the Shanghai night, a pebble slipped into his path, unevening his step. With his thoughts weeping up in the clouds and unhinged from reality, Marshall tumbled backwards and crashed ungracefully onto the floor. From the street below, he heard Benedikt turn on his heel and wonder aloud, “What was that?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Benedikt's companion said, “It is probably nothing, my love.”
My love.
Marshall’s breath hitched and his heart ached. All the nights that he’d lain awake, utterly alone, he had whispered those two words into the tranquil darkness.
Those two words binded with a name.
Benedikt’s name .
Unable to control himself any longer, Marshall pulls himself slowly up to peek his head over the ledge of the roof. Just as Benedikt turns, Marshall catches a glimpse of colour under Benedikt’s jacket. It stands out from his dark jacket and white shirt. It was a familiar pair, recognisable for its boldness. Marshall’s last birthday present to Benedikt, a pair of golden suspenders. It had been a joke, Marshall knew Benedikt would never wear something so uncomfortable and distracting. But yet, there he stood. Down in the street, standing shoulder to shoulder with his lover, wearing the suspenders Marshall had bought him, the suspenders he’d sworn he’d never wear.
Why would Benedikt do such a thing? To curse Marshall? As if he’d known Marshall was watching, mocking him for an absurd reason. Or, perhaps...no. Marshall could not afford to think like that. He had spent so many years loving Benedikt in silence, an invisible gag in his mouth forbade him from speaking his truth. He’d memorised every emotion that had touched Benedikt’s handsome face, and a love more than friendship was not one of those emotions. It was pitiful to hope that Benedikt had loved him in return.
With an exhale, Marshall Seo retires back to the Scarlet safe house. Leaving Benedikt Montagov to enjoy his date.
As much as he tried, Marshall couldn’t banish Benedikt from his mind. If he managed during the day, Benedikt would still haunt his dreams. It had been a week since Marshall had last seen Benedikt, he hadn’t allowed himself to trail Benedikt for the entire week. It had been hard, but he managed. Although, Juliette did note his depressed mood during her visit. As Marshall slept, he dreamt of past memories, the ones he’ll carry in his heart forever. Memories painted in gold.
In one memory, the pair were being chased. Marshall ran ahead and Benedikt sprinting a few paces behind. Even as Scarlets chased them through the city, Marshall had chuckled as Benedikt gasped for air with each step, he had always been less agile than him. In his moment of humor, he’d stumbled over his own foot and tumbled to the ground. Benedikt stopped abruptly to help Marshall back onto his feet. In those few short lived seconds, Marshall’s heart longed for Benedikt. It was as if they’d gotten lost in a fairytale, perhaps one from the love poems Marshall always fonded over. Benedikt was the prince charming, his strong hands gripping Marshall’s elbow and pulling him up off the concrete. His hair was wind-swept and perfect from the high-end chase. The night sky was clear and void of clouds, allowing the moonlight to dapple it’s beauty onto Benedikt’s face. A pair of eyes met another’s and held the gaze for a moment too long. Perhaps Marshall had imagined it or perhaps it had been a trick of light, but he swore he saw a red flush dust across Benedikt’s cheek. Before he had a chance to indulge in the sight, Benedikt forced Marshall to stand on his own, letting go of him and taking a step back.
“Hurry, they’re not too far behind.”
And with that, Marshall ran, Benedikt trailing quickly behind him.
The memory of Benedikt sprinting closely behind him down the alleys of Shanghai sent a chill through Marshall’s body. He missed that thrill. He missed Benedikt. The week had been a torture and his heart, now heavy with grief, sunk into his chest, heavy and brutal.
Marshall woke the next morning, his shirt sticking to him and wet from cold sweat.
Marshall couldn’t bear it any longer. He couldn’t bear knowing Benedikt was somewhere out and about with someone new. He couldn’t bear that Benedikt, his Benedikt whether it be official or not, had spent only five months with grief before skipping boats. Marshall began watching Benedikt pass through the city once more, following his every step and intruding on his conversations.
On a particularly somber day, Marshall found himself crouched in the corner of a balcony, listening in on an argument between his two former friends. The conversation was scattered and muffled through the closed balcony door, but all became clear when the yelling began.
“Juliette let your mother die!” Benedikt. Marshall had never heard Benedikt snap back at anyone, never in the ten years he had known him. “Juliette killed Marshall! ”
The pain that radiated from his voice shattered Marshall’s heart.
Benedikt was still grieving.
More murmurs stormed over the room inside. The room became still, as if all the contents in the room were statues, until once again, Benedikt broke the stillness.
“I loved him!”
Benedikt loved him.
Benedikt loved him.
Benedikt loved him.
Benedikt loved him.
Benedikt had loved someone. Perhaps it was Marshall, but if he had, he didn’t love him any longer. Benedikt had used the word loved , indicating it had been a moment in the past that had come and gone. Marshall knew Benedikt, always choosing and placing his words carefully. And Benedikt had used loved, past tense. Marshall crouched in silence until he heard the door underneath the balcony slam closed abruptly. Carefully, he leaned over the railing and found himself staring after a head of blonde curls. It was Benedikt.
Quiet as a dormouse, Marshall pulled himself up onto the roof above him and followed Benedikt through Shanghai once more. He followed Benedikt for hours, he watched as Benedikt swiped sugar sticks from market stalls only to take a few bites before aggressively throwing it to the curb. As the moon rose higher and higher into the stair glittering sky, Marshall watched as Benedikt travelled further into Scarlet Gang territory.
It hadn’t taken long before Benedikt had been recognised. The first few Scarlets who had approached him met a tragic end, all unprepared for Benedikt’s cruelty. With one final shot, the last Scarlet fell to the ground and Benedikt swiftly tucked his pistol back under his jacket. The second group had met with the same tragedy. And so had the lone gangster who had thought himself mighty enough to take on Benedikt with his bare fists. A final group slowly approached Benedikt, and this time, his luck had run short. There were seven men, all marked with red ribbons. Scarlets. Marshall couldn’t pry his eyes away from the horrors before him. Benedikt was bloody and battered. His gun had been kicked from his hand in the first few seconds and his attackers were armed with weapons of all sorts. Marshall’s chest bloomed with anger, he took hold of the pistol placed at his hip and opened fire. Marshall would do anything to protect Benedikt and if it had meant lodging bullets into the heads of a few scarlets, so be it. After he’d finished the deed, Marshall straightened himself and stood to his full height. He looked down at Benedikt, barely conscious and bloody, he quickly rushed down to the street by jumping down the fire escapes and landing gracefully on the ground. Marshall approached Benedikt timidly. His heart broke each time Benedikt let out a muffled groan as he tried to pick himself off the floor.
“Don’t! Let me. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
Benedikt winced as his head shot upward, searching for the source of the voice. His breath shortened ever so slightly, when his gaze met him. “Marshall?”
With a grave nod, Marshall spoke, “It’s me, Benedikt.”
“But, y-you’re dead,” Benedikt managed to whisper, followed by a groan.
“Where are you hurt?”
Benedikt reached a hand across his body to his ribs. With a nod, Marshal gently reached under him and picked Benedikt up into his arms. He hurried back to the Scarlet safe house a few blocks down. Benedikt had passed out during the journey.
Marshall laid Benedikt onto a small couch and cleaned Benedikt’s wounds and bandaged his cuts. Once he was done he sat in a torturous silence, waiting for his friend to regain consciousness. Slowly but surely, as the sun began to rise and Benedikt slowly opened his eyes.
Panic flooded through Marshall, he hadn’t prepared himself. His breath hitched when Benedikt’s eyes laid upon him, abruptly stopping Benedikt’s curious assessment of his surroundings.
“Marshall?”
So quietly, it was almost inaudible, Marshall whispered, “Hey, Ben.”
“Marshall, you’re al-,” Benedikt tries to rise off the couch, but is stopped, presumably from pain.
“Stay still, Ben. You’re only going to harm yourself further,” Benedikt opened his mouth to speak, but Marshall interrupted. “What were you thinking? Wandering into Scarlet territory, lonesome?” Benedikt tried to speak again, but Marshall wouldn’t relent, “Why have you been acting like this in recent months? You have never once put anyone in harms way, so how come last night I watched you mercilessly murder a dozen people?” Benedikt stilled, speechless. The cramped room was overcome with silence, pitiful and merciless silence.
“You’re alive,” Benedikt said, breaking the silence.
“That’s not the point, Benedikt. You have never sought out a lover before, and believe me when I say that you’ve had multiple chances and with whomever you could want. But all of a sudden I’m dead and you’ve found someone to put your arm around?” Tears were forming in Marshall’s eyes, but he would rather die for real than to let Benedikt watch him cry. “Did I mean nothing to you?”
“Of course not. You do. You mean a lot to me, Mars,” Benedikt’s eyes widened, astonished by Marshall’s words. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and with a painful grunt, he sat up. Marshall moved to help Benedikt, who raised a hand to stop him. “You mean everything to me, Marshall. But I couldn’t move on from your death. It was as if time and everyone around me were continuing on, but I still remained in that damned hospital room. And Roma had grown tired of my misery, so he found me a girl, someone who he thought would suit me best.”
Marshall took a step closer towards the couch, standing directly in front of Benedikt, “So is she? The best for you?”
“No, Roma was wrong. I had already found the best person for me,” Benedikt looked up at Marshall.
Benedikt reached forward and grabbed hold of Marshall's shirt. He pulled on it, bringing Marshall closer to him. He beckoned for him to take the seat next to him on the love seat, Marshall complied. Benedikt’s hand remained firm at Marshall’s waist, his other hand moved up to cup Marshall’s cheek.
“You are the best person for me.”
Marshall inched closer and they found themselves an inch away from each other, their breaths warm on the other’s face. Benedikt’s breath hitched, “I tried to love another, but tragically failed.”
Marshall’s gaze lifted to meet Benedikt’s, “It’s you, Marshall.”
Unable to control himself any longer, Marshall pulled himself closer to Benedikt and kissed him. Benedikt makes a soft grunt that snaps Marshall into the reality of his actions, he immediately pulled back.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I shouldn’t have done-” Benedikt raised his hand, as he has done thousands upon thousands of times, he placed it over Marshall’s lips, effectively shutting him up.
“It’s alright, Mars. Just hurt my side a bit,” With a small smile playing on his lips, Benedikt drews Marshall in once more and captured his lips. The kiss sent an electric shock down Marshall’s spine, his heart rate increasing. Since the fateful day that he’d met Benedikt, he had always dreamed about the euphoria of kissing Benedikt. The thrill that would come from locking lips and moving in sync with the other boy’s. And all his stupid hopeless romantic fantasies proved to be true. Kissing Benedikt was intoxicating and Marshall could feel his body long for more and desperately pull their bodies closer. The tender sweet kiss slowly melted into a rougher and more emotional one. Both boys cling to each other after months of being apart. Hands roaming the other's body, exploring never before found places.
“Is this okay?” Marshall asked when his lips lost Benedikt’s for a second. Immediately, he connected them once again with the other boy’s. The sound Benedikt makes as Marshall rolls his shirt off his body is the answer to his question.
Suddenly, as if he’d been hit with sudden amnesia, Marshall remembers that Benedikt was still hurt. Reluctantly, Marshall pulled himself off the former. “Are you okay?”
“I’m more than okay,” Benedikt replied, lips pink and wet.
Marshall helped Benedikt off the small couch and onto the more comfortable mattress. Benedikt noticed his pair of gold suspenders that Marshall had taken off while he was unconscious to help bandage wounds. He glanced up at Marshall with a soft and sad smile.
“These are from you, remember?” As if Marshall could so easily forget something he’d given to Benedikt. He could still remember the first gift he’d given Benedikt. All of his gifts to him were special, mostly they were objects and gadgets that reminded Marshall of him or it was something Marshall knew the other would adore.
Marshall laid down next to Benedikt and pulled him close, resting his head on Benedikt’s chest. “Of course I remember. You always refused to wear it.” His voice grew small, “Which is why I was surprised when you wore it on your date.”
“I started wearing them because they reminded me of you and how much your eyes shined the day you gave them to me. And they let me feel closer to you when I wore them.” Benedikt paused, his eyebrows drawn closer together, indicating he was thinking.
“How did you know I wore them on a date?”
Marshall blushed, he should have known his loose lips would spill about his secret outings, “I saw them under your jacket.” He looked up at Benedikt, beautiful and conflicted. “I always kept a close eye on you. I only intervened a few times.”
“That was you?” Benedikt sat up, forgetting his injury. He groaned in pain, but continued, “You shot those men when I was outnumbered? And…”
Benedikt’s eyes searched Marshall’s, searching for answers, “You are how I ended up back home after the incident with Tyler Cai and his ambush. And it’s how you saved me last night.”
Marshall smiled, “Someone had to make sure you weren’t doing anything foolish.”
“I’m sorry, Marshall,” Benedikt's mood changed, “Ever since that day in the hospital, I’ve been broken. Unable to move on. I barely ate and I commited many senseless actions. But, I’ve realized why it was impossible for me to find peace.”
Benedikt’s eyes shone with tears, “I love you, Marshall.”
Benedikt had used love, present tense.
“I love you more, Benedikt.”