Chapter Text
William was crazy.
He had to be if this Mark--the Maskless Invincible with a body count higher than any English test score he's ever gotten--was in his arms, forgetting himself for a solid moment. William was holding one of the craziest of Marks in his arms as if they were lovers. He never truly saw Mark as a lover, nor did he ever swung that way, too, but the burning in his cheeks and his heart thumping in his throat told him swallow is pride and play the role that Mark needed him to play. Even when William closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, his mind kept circling on what the true angle was. If he was here to rip him apart alive, he almost did to Eve, then at least give him the chance to make to the kitchen where his blood and body could be easily cleaned up by his family! Blood is hard to get out of 1970 shagged carpet, and it was more of a bitch to find replacement carpet, too. It's not as easy as it seems as it sounds.
Still, he held his breath as Mark held him closer, his body relaxing to his touch. He could feel his heartbeat through his skin and how steady it sounded. There was a strange peacefulness to it, and William couldn't understand it, either. He's hugged his Mark before, so why did this fell more different besides feeling death coming closer to him? What drove this one to him and let himself become...become so weak? It felt wrong, all of it, but Maskless did ask him to let him pretend for one day, just one day, that William was his. Under his bloodied yellow and blue suit, he could feel small pieces of him falling back into place, and it was almost comforting. Maybe not all monsters are as terrifying?
"What do you want me to call you?" William murmurs in his neck.
Mark stands there for a moment in silence, soaking in the golden rays in William's rusty hair. He closes his eyes and tightens his arms around him slightly. "Mar," he answers, matching William's tone. "You can call me 'Mar'."
William's Mark hated that nickname, but this one?
"Okay, Mar," he tasted the name on his lips and felt Mar's tensed shoulders slack and walls fall and crack. "What do you want to do?" He pulls away to look at him, but he never left his arms. "Do you have a plan you want to do?"
Mar could look and be lost William's eyes. He memorized the color and envy anything that shared that same shade. He would do into a paint store back at home and look at the wall just trying to find a match, but nothing was close. Nothing could hold a candle to the way William could wear that color so easily. Leaves in the spring are jealous of him, and Mar could understand it. He could see why. The innocence that he held made him feel right back where he wanted to be. Sometimes, people describe eyes holding back raging waters or rivers, but he couldn't see that in William's. His was more of a swirl in a lagoon just after sunset in his eyes, and Mar could swim in it or drown happily one way or another.
"Mar?"
It's cute how he looks. It's almost like he was his--
William's hands tighten slightly on his shoulders. "Maybe a bath for you first," he offers, lifting Mar's head by the chin. "Red is never your color."
Mar leans into his palm, his dark brown eyes closing, and nods at the offer. He didn't realize how exhausted his body truly was until he took a moment to let himself fall apart. If William wasn't playing this role perfectly, he would admit that Mar looks like a sleepy puppy that just had fun playing in the mud for the first time; it's almost cute. William shakes that thought out of his head, though. He didn't want to let himself become attached to this man, this being too fast. William will always be scared of this version of Mark. Even when he panicked and yelled at him to leave him, he thought he was going to die! But, turning around and seeing Mark tear up and cry, he realized that he is just as human as him no matter the universe or realm of reality. He still had a hard time with it and couldn't wrap his head around, but he knew that this Mark was one of the worse. He killed everyone that his own Mark loves in his realm (even forming that thought in his head made his brain hurt!).
Mar's arms pull away gradually as Willliam turns away, but their hands stayed together, never unlocking or undoing. It's almost like a padlock between their hands; one was a key while the other was a lock. Neither of them didn't know what part they were.
William led the way through the house to the upstairs bathroom, the same one that was connected to his room. "Do you think you can stand in a shower?" William asked, as he led them up the steps.
"I...don't know." Mar was so unsure of himself now. He didn't know, truly. "My feet hurt and my back is killing me."
William spares a glance to study his steps and movements. "You're limping.'
"It's okay."
"What happened?"
"I said I'm okay--"
Why was William getting so annoyed at this already? If Mar wanted him to be his for the day, jus for the time being, he'll treat it as if they've been together for years and did a "Happy Holidays" card! His hand rests on Mar's arm, stopping him in his tracks. If he's going to test himself to see how far Mar's will to go, then it's better to do it here on wooden floors. "No, you're not," he said firmly. "You're limping, covered in blood, and seem, well," his other hand was hesitant but it rested on the side of his temple just where a scratch was, "you seem so shitty with yourself. Honestly, what is my boy...friend," it was nearly a struggle to say, again, "what are you doing to yourself?" He composed himself as Mar's brown eyes shimmered with a tent of red. "You need to take care of yourself." He brushes his hair away from his face and smoothed it to the back, causing Mar to push his head into his palm. "Mar, please, for my sake?"
How could Mar be mad at his request?
Mar takes both his hands into his. "So, bath?" He didn't look up; he felt like a child being scolded by a grandmother.
"Yes, a bath. Not a shower," William turns away and led him down the hall past photo frames and a painting from the dollar store, "and I have some soap to help those aches, okay?" He imagined Mar nodding. "Good. Also, get you a new set of clothes. There's no way you're putting that suit back on. That's like violating some Geneva code or OSHA thing."
"OSHA?"
"Yeah, you know? Workplace violation?"
Mar shakes his head as he laughs. "We don't have that in my world."
"Is construction ever done?"
"Well, no--"
"Then invent OSHA!" William laughs with him, shaking his head in disbelief. "Seriously, man. You need that."
There was something in Mar's smile that was different from Mark's smile. His smile felt more...crafted. It's as if he saves his smiles, his true smiles, for when it counts. Mark's smiles never left and sometimes looked tired and strained, but Mar's smile? Damn, his smile could paint a sunset in the mountains and always be different and beautiful. and this is the first time he's seen this violent version smile warmly without a hint of death or bloodlust in his eyes. It doesn't happen by chance, nothing ever does, but this does. It feels like it belongs to William and William alone. Whatever sunlight or sunset was stuck in his smile, William's glad he was able to see it in person.
"Come on, Mar," he led him farther down the hall, "let's get ya cleaned."
William's room was in the far back of the second floor with bathroom within his room. There's a bathroom downstairs for everyone to use, but this was his. When walking through his room made it feel like it's his own apartment with a guest over. Though his room was a bit messy and he still had clothes to put away, his white bathroom door and black knob was his. Ash wooden floors with a cherry and lime soda can mat in the center between the white toilet and tub, lower half of the wall was tile with the upper half was a deep blue, and a sink with a small counter space for his comb, shaving, and toothbrush was enough for him. The mirror over the sink would click open for his medications, toothpaste, and deodorant. What he liked most of his bathroom was the lighting. The lights were a gentle orange and yellow, creating a calm atmosphere whenever he takes a shower. Though small, it was enough for him.
William lets go of Mar's hand and closes his bedroom door. "I'll grab some towels from the closet and get some soaps for the tub. You just start undressing and get ready." He's seen Mark--his Mark--naked before, so how could this be any different? "I'll get the water started."
Mar let's him squeeze past him to the bathroom and sat on his computer chair. He felt gravity take a toll on his body and his head started to hurt. It was a chore to take off one boot and toss it aimlessly to the side. So, he stays still for a moment and takes in William's room. The bed was unmade against the wall, a nightstand with a stack of books from history to baseball, a soccer ball rug by the bed. The walls were painted a deep red, not forest green like in his universe, and had posters of some bands he's never heard of. The closet was to the right instead of the left side of the room, and he didn't have a stain glass window. The one thing that was the same was the bathroom and where the computer desk was. Hell, even the stuff on the desk was similar like a greenlight alarm clock and a black mouse on a fire themed mouse pad. One the corner of the desk in a black picture frame was a photo of him and William's Mark in front of some plane. Their arms on each shoulder, side-hugging, and smiling brightly at the camera. Mar reached out and held the frame in his hands, and he had to stop himself from shaking. This is a memory he'll never live, a moment that he never got the chance to live! His Mark should be grateful with all these moments and memories he gets. If he wants anything from William, anything from him at all, he has to go to the cemetery on top of the hill and sit in front of a weeping gray stoned angel!
Most of the time, it would rain when he visits his grave. Sometimes, it would rain on cloudless, clear blue-sky day.
There was no one else to blame except for himself.
He lifts his eyes again and scanned the room. He would do anything to know the untold stories on the walls, and he would give anything to be a part of one. Just one. In his world, his William had a bullet go through his chest, and he held him in his arms. He didn't get a chance to see the sunset like Mar promised, but he held him through his pain and hurt. He stayed even if it was painful to watch. He cradled his dying body and rocked back and forth while screaming, pleading, begging for someone to help him. But his father watched on, telling him that the world was cruel and humans didn't deserve them. He called himself and Mar gods among them.
"You should be thanking me, Mark," his father said to him. "He was holding you back and made you weak. Now, nothing is stopping you from taking the world and destroying it."
And his father was right: Nothing stopped him. Even as he ripped his father's spine out and tore him limb from limb, nothing stopped him. Even when he went home to his mother's fake smile fading as he choked the lights out of her eyes, and ripped Eve's throat out with his teeth, the world kept turning. He ended up burning cities and taking his world by a reckoning force that nothing could stop. Because the only thing that stopped him, the only thing that made him feel human, was dead. Along the way, he lost himself somewhere in the clouds of red mist and spring. Somewhere along the way, he felt himself slip and fade until all he wanted to do was go to realm to realm and kill again and again. If he couldn't have his William, his light, and soft waters--no Mark will. But this William was different. He was so similar, so alike with his that it hurt. It hurt too much just to stand aside and watch from unbreakable glass not to touch him. For him, he would and did burn the world. For him, right now, he was his and his alone, even if it was just a lie and pretend.
But who was he kidding?
He'll always be Icarus, and William will always be the sun.
He sets the photo aside and starts to take his other boot off wincing as he does. He felt the pressure from his boot leave his calf, causing whatever bruised muscles to ache and scream. He let out a hiss as he tried to reach behind him to unzip his uniform because his shoulders and arm cracked. He closes his eyes and tries to fight through the pain, but he failed. He could hear the muffle noise of water in the tub and hear William rambling about oils and scents, but the ringing in his ear drowned everything out. He could do anything, so why was this task so hard? What go him to stop from pulling off his suit and tossing it to the side? He does this every day! What made this so different? So difficult? The ringing faded to heavy and fast heartbeats, and he felt like he could hear everyone's hearts all over again when he first got his powers. Thoughts swirled and panic grew as he tried and tried to take off his bloodied suit. Even when he looked at his hands with red staining his skin, he thought back to the first day craze, back when he lost him. His vision blurred in and out, fuzzy and muffled, bright and loud all at once then never again. He felt like he couldn't breathe as waves crashed against him and he fell overboard. His mind faded in and out of his memories and realm, and he could see the dead falling all over again. Why did he kill his mother? What actual joy did he get out of it? There's something wrong with him. There's something not right.
'It's the suit,' he thought as his anxiety grew. He started tugging harder and harder, but it's like the fabric was eating him alive. Why wasn't it ripping? It always rips! Get it off1 Please, get this off him! Just get it off!
"Mar?" William stood in the bathroom door as his careless smile fades. "Oh, oh, gods above, Mar." Quickly, he turns off the water then entered the bedroom, but he kept his steps timed and steadied. "Mar, hey. Hey?"
"It's not coming off," Mar whines as he jerks at his bloodied sleeved. "Why isn't it coming off? I want it off! It's not coming off!" His voice started to crack and a pathetic whine escaped as he thrashes in the chair. His mind felt like it was spinning into nothing as he tried to get the suit off. "Will, it's not--I can't--Will, it's not coming off!"
William knelt in front of him and took his hands. "Mar, hey, buddy, hey," he moved Mar's hands away from his sleeves. "Come back to me. Come back? Breathe. It's okay--"
The room around Mar started swirling and his vision betrayed him. He saw a dead William in front of him, his mouth agape, and blood dripping from his shirt. His eyes were wide and fearful before turning to reassurance and understanding of his fate. Why didn't he fight death? Why did he give in so easily?
"Mar? Don't go," William's hands cupped his cheeks as he saw Mar's eyes go wild in an endless nightmare. "Don't go where I can't see. Come back to me; come back." He thumbed away silent tears as he watched his lower lip tremble. "It's okay; you're safe. I'm right here with you, and you are here. Not fighting, not seeing the world being destroyed, and seeing anything end. You're in my room with me. So, please? Please, come back. Come back to me."
Why did he care so much?
It's all pretend...right? He's just playing a role for him. Just playing a part so he could get out of this alive! But how far can an actor go without getting himself too deep and attached to the role? How far was he honestly willing to go to mark sure this Mark--Maskless, Ruthless, Killing Mark--doesn't end his world along with him? But he's never hurt him. He's never threw a car at him or forced a building to come down on him. He's never seen that side of him and how violent he could be. Whenever he would see him, Mar would perk up and light up a smile, warm and thankful, as if it's always the last time he'll see him. He said something happened to his William earlier when he walked away and Mar started tearing up. A certain sadness runs through him like a clogged drain. It drips so slowly before it bursts open and overflows. On his knees, looking up at him, he could see the cracks forming. Whatever his mind was seeing, whatever ghost was haunting him and taking his eyesight would not win. He'll damn make sure of it.
William leaned upward until his forehead against his. "Come back," he begged, his voice strained and tired, "please? Please, come back?"
Mar's breath hitched and he takes in a staggered breath, and another, and another, and another, and another. The dead William faded to what was in front of him, what was real. Shaking, his hands reached up and cupped his jaw as if he were cradling tiny birds of glass. He was real, he reminded himself. He was real. Not a trick of the light or some twisted test; it was him. Mar was in William's room with him, and he was so close that it physically burned him, but he didn't pull away or lean back. He brought himself closer and felt his heartbeat with his dead one. It's like he was alive again, no yellow suit with the blue, no flight or nothing. He was himself where there was a treehouse and William and him were play fighting with sticks as swords. Maybe this William shares that memory? Maybe he remembers that place where a tire swing hung from a thick rope and the tree was their spot. Either way, he sat in front of him and held his wrist like they were his lifeline to the world. He didn't want to let go or make himself go away. He was there...right there. He takes a staggering breath and lets it out slowly.
"That's it," William's lips curled slightly. "There you are. You're back," he didn't move his hands from his face. "There you are. Where did you go?"
He never allowed himself to feel like this or feel this exposed, but his eyes softened as they traced William's face and every line that crinkled by his eyes. "I saw you in my world," he answers in murmured words. "I saw you there again."
"What did you see?" William kept his voice calm and even as he thumbs over dry blood.
Mar slowly shakes his head, whimpering, "Please, don't make me relive it again?"
William stayed closer even when he shifted away for space. "How are you going to move one and heal if you don't talk about it? Mar," he forced him to meet his eyes, "let me in and help you. You don't need to relieve nightmares while you're awake. That's the most cruel thing that anyone would do to a person, to a human being."
"I'm not a human, William. I'm far from that."
"True, but," he gives a half, trying smile, "you still have nightmares and bleed. You still breath and drink water. You can think and understand things. So, that makes you human. A terrifying, perfect, broke, living human."
Mar looks at the floor and watched it spin for a moment. Then his eyes closed and took a deep breath. In every universe he's ever been in, all of the Williams are the same. They all tell him that he's human in a way that sound beautiful. Gods, how he wished he was as beautiful as him. How could he get that mind and heart as William? He takes another deep breath and answers, "In my world, I watched you die. My father, well... he's really not a father, you know? He killed you, him. I couldn't do anything. All I could do was hold him close until he died." His brown eyes met his. "Now, I found you. I found you in this world where your Mark doesn't feel the way I do and I," he caught himself and looks away as his cheeks brighten slightly, "I think it's unfair."
"But I'm not him, am I?"
"No," Mar could feel his feet and how they were grounded on the floor. "You're not him. You're not gone."
"That's right. As you asked me, I'm yours for the day until you go home. And, if I have to, I'll help you through our lost."
Mar nods once more, his mind numbing before he felt a calm storm. "I would like that, please." He's not one to beg; he hates it. "I'll follow your lead."
William's movements were slow and timed so not to startle Mar or make him feel corned. He goes to his sleeves then up to the back of his neck, finding the zipper. "I can help you if you let me," he offers, his voice like honey but firm like oak. "I can help you out of that and get you in the tub. Mar," his hand rests on Mar's cheek again, "you must be so exhausted."
Again, Mar nods slowly and doesn't make a noise.
"You said you'll be my good boy earlier," William stands up and offers his hand. "Can you be a good boy now and let me help you?"
Eagerly, Mar stands up and follows him like a puppy to the bathroom, going in after him.
The mint and rosemary scent filled the air around him and he eminently felt his shoulders fall and his legs caving. Still, he listens to William's directions and does as he's told.
"Turn around," William said, guiding his shoulders to turn. "I'll unzipper you and help you in the tub, but the rest is up to you to do, okay? Can you do that for me?"
"I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking."
As said before, William's seen Mark naked once or twice. The first time was when they went skinny dipping in the ocean a few summers ago at William's aunt's house. The day was perfect but hot, and the ocean was right there! So, they pulled over in his dying red car and didn't bother to look for their swim trunks. The first time seeing him nude, he almost started to laugh because of how pale Mark was and how bad the tan line was. But the water felt amazing! The other time was this past summer after Mark stopped a volcano from exploding. William was on the ground, helping with evacuation when he watched Mark fly into the pit. There was an explosion then a streak of a something pale fly out, and he knew it was Mark. He found him bare as the day he was born in a shrub, and they both learned two things that day. One: His suit has got to be fireproof or something. Two: Mark really needs to get in the sun because it should be illegal to be that pale! For only those two times and hanging out all their lives, he never seen Mark as anything more than a friend and brother.
But with this Mark? This one...there's something different.
He said he could love him more and better than his Mark, so does that mean that his Mark...?
'Don't be silly, Wil,' he thought to himself as his hand went to the zipper on top of Mar's neck. 'He doesn't love you like that. He has Eve. That's all the person he'll ever need.'
He unzips the suit with a steady hand while the other rests on his shoulder to keep Mar still.
Mar winces and suck air through his teeth as the pressure that the suit gave left him, causing his chest to finally feel the building he went through.
"I'm almost done," William promises, taking time to pause to let him to adjust to the pain. "You're doing so good."
"I'm good," Mar repeats in a murmur. "I'm doing good." His words were filled with need he didn't know his mind needed. He leaned back into William's arms slightly in hope to feel his heartbeat, but William gently pushes him back to stand straight.
"Stay still. I'm going to start again, okay? I'm almost done--"
William had to hold back his gasp as he looked at his back. Along his skin were different burns and scars from fights he's never seen. He saw how jagged and deep some were, and others stood out as if fresh flowers to a wire. it was as if he was looking at roots of a tree after it gets ripped out from the ground; it doesn't seem to send. It stretches around his body, showing a grave and rails of unseen events that he went through and buried. With thinking, no fear or disgust, he reaches out and traces one with the lightest touch, too afraid to hurt him more. Mar shudders a small breath, causing his shoulders to tense, then accepts his fate. William traced his back with both horror and awe. How many fights did he really go through? How many did he see to earn all of these? Even his mark doesn't have this! He doesn't even get scars that last this long! How come he gets them? The branches that most had stretched around him as if they were lines on a globe, and he could see every part of his back as a map of his pain and fights. He earned them through training and pushing himself to the limit, he knows this, but this? This felt different. The Invincible he knows wouldn't let anyone win like this. he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he studies more. New and old brusies from fights, both ugly in color no matter the age, and the depths of the scars and cuts became too much for him to stomach.
"Mar, what happened?" He asked, concerned. "What...what did this to you? Who did this to you?"
'Why do I even care?'
Mar was leaned back into his warm hands, memorizing the callousness and rough edges, and hugged himself, causing more of the scars to show. "From past fights, I suppose," he answers honestly. "Do you know how many buildings I've been thrown through? Doesn't your Mark bruise and scar?"
"Well, yeah, he does, but," William traces a deep one, one that he thought hurt the most. It was too deep, too wide, too forced and drown on his body as if he was branded by something too dark. "He heals. I don't think I've seen him grow a scar or anything."
Great, so he's a defected Mark, an imperfect one.
"William, I'm still human. I still scar and stuff when things are, well, rough." He hugged his shoulders tighter. The burns on his back spread wide, making them look like angel wings burned into his skin. He felt too exposed. "This was a mistake--"
William shook his head and stood in front of Mar. "What? No, no. Shit, I didn't mean..."
His eyes trailed as he looked at his chest. Growing from the center and opening wide as it grew were marble like tendrils. Each made him look as if he were made of marble block with black lines etched in the stone. They curved and weaved with each breath he took, growing like tree roots then shrinking into strikes of lightning. Some were thick and connected to each one like a spiderweb, and there were smaller lines that led to nowhere. He was a true map that he could never get lost in, and William hoped he would never be found. What artist, what crazy fool would think that this wasn't perfect? He was everything including the stars even if he couldn't see it aloud. He was right; his Mark would never let him look for this long without saying something dumb. But Mar? This made him stuck in this web, his web. What tangeled mess would he like to call it?
William stammered over his words as he reaches forward to lift Mar's face. "I didn't mean to look too long," he didn't know why he was talking in a low voice. It's like he was speaking to an injured animal. Shit...he was. Mar was more hurt than he could ever imagine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Here," he takes Mar's hand and guided it to his back where the zipper was, "you can reach it now, so you can finish yourself, right?" He felt his face heating up and turning a soft pink. Why was standing this close so...suffocating all of a sudden? Why did it hurt to see Mar's eyes lower and look away from him?
Mar nods and steps away from him. It hurt too much to see William like this, alive and moving, caring and filled with the light that he craved. He wanted to hold on. He wanted to bring back what was never his, but it was a mistake. All of it was. He should've came here. He should've just let it stay buried on top of the cemetery where his William laid sleeping. He clung on to something that was never meant to be. In every universe, in every way possible, he was never his fully. There was always Eve, that was always death, there was always him. He loved him, so, he had to let him go. He had to let him leave. Close the door gently on the way out but make it hurt worse than falling into Earth's crust. "Thank you, William, for doing the first part, but...but you can stop now."
"What?"
"You can stop pretending now," it hurt Mar to say it out loud, but what stung was William's eyes breaking. "You were right; I don't belong in this world, your world. So, thank you for helping me. Thank you for trying. But you're right, you aren't him." he feltlike he was losing William all over again. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
William wanted to reach out for him, but something inside told him to stop. What can he do? He was a friend, his Mark is. Why did it suddenly feel so difficult to let him go and accept this? What changed his thoughts? But William had to be okay with this. He was a good friend; he has to be a good friend now. "Can you at least take a bath before you leave? I wasn't lying when I said red wasn't your color."
"Yeah, I guess," Mar said, looking at the bubbles in the tub. "Thank you."
William steps away and heads for the door. "I'll leave you alone, then. I have some spare clothes you can have after you're done."
William was so far away to touch even though he was right there. Mar had to suck it up and face it alone, just as he always does. "Thank you," he murmurs as William closes the door. "William?"
He stops pop his head back in. "Yeah?"
There goes the sun again, shining in his red hair, casting a glow that Mar could never forget to fell but could never seem to catch it. "I'm sorry for everything. I should've just listened to you." He wanted to rip this whole world apart. If he can't have him, what gives everyone else the right?
William shook his head. "It's okay, Mar. You're still healing," then a soft smile formed, "I'm happy to be here for it, though--your healing journey and all." Gods, he's a lair. "Let me know if you need help, though. Those shoulders look like shit." He tried to joke it off, tried to laugh it off, but it didn't land right. Suddenly, nothing felt right.
How can you yearn for something that's with arms reach and just awoken something in you? How can he tell Mar that he just held the key to something for just one moment? He was there! He was right there, and he just had to look at his back and burns and not care!
"I'll be on my computer if you need me." With that, William slips out of the room, clicking the door gently.