I was spending a lot of time in David’s apartment lately. Don’t get me wrong, I was still doing my job. David just.. convinced me to relax once in a while. I needed that. I was on the fucking edge. There was *so much* going on, and the Core was melting down or something?  Most people couldn’t get through to handle our daily shit, never mind handle moving, and knowing that the downstairs neighbors *really* didn’t like us. And could hear us walking. 

 

Ugh, and *now* there was this:

 

“Ok so before, when you said you knew about..” I paused.  David knew what I meant. “..because we..” I gestured awkwardly, “..and you can like.. hear my thoughts when we’re..”

 

“And see them. You’re very visual.”

 

“Oh my god.”  I could feel my face getting hot. 

 

We were sitting in his living room. It was simple and uncluttered, but his couch was still comfortable.  I thought it sort of matched his personality. 

 

“You didn’t think to tell me?” I asked louder than was probably comfortable for him. 

 

“Well,” David shifted a little, “when is there really an appropriate time to bring something like that up?”

 

I took a deep breath. I guessed there wasn’t really.  “So you just sit on things because they’re inappropriate?” I couldn’t tell if I was angry or not.  David seemed to assume I was though. 

 

“Marco,” He said softly, and touched my knee. “Have I treated you any differently since we—“

 

“Aah. C’mon,” I interrupted him before he could say the words. 

 

“Have I, though?” He pressed, “Have I behaved as though I think less of you?”

 

“No, but that’s not—“ I struggled for words. I felt exposed and uncomfortable, and saying things was.. difficult. 

 

“Marco,” He said my name again, “everyone thinks about weird random things when they’re—“

 

“Mmm, David c’mon,” I tried to interrupt him again, and he glowered a little and raised his voice to speak over me. 

 

“—having sex!  Marco, if we’re going to talk about this you need to let me say it out loud.”

 

I groaned and rubbed my face with my hands.  David slid closer to me and murmured in my ear. 

 

“I know you’re embarrassed, but—“

 

“Oh my God, would you stop sayin’ words?”

 

“Marco please.”

 

I stared at the corner of the coffee table.  My heart was racing. I wanted.. I wanted an excuse to leave. David put his hand on my shoulder. 

 

“It’s ok to feel things Marco—“

 

“No it fuckin’ isn’t!!” I shouted and stood up. I needed to pace. “I have a fucking job to do so can’t be all-“  I trailed off. I didn’t have a word for what I was feeling right now. 

 

David stood and stopped my agitated walking back and forth. He touched my hands and looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I should have told you.  I just knew it would be upsetting, and the last thing I ever want to do is upset you.”

 

I huffed and slid my gaze sideways so that I was very pointedly not meeting his eyes.  “I don’t just think about.. weird random things,” I muttered. 

 

“I know,” David said. He leaned forward and embraced me, and I felt... safe?

 

That was weird, right?

 

Something welled up inside of me. I felt it in my chest and there was pressure behind my eyes. My vision blurred a little, and my heart started pounding again. I pulled away from him suddenly and turned to hide my tears. Panic shot through me. I felt like I was vibrating. 

 

I needed to get the fuck out of here. 

 

David touched my shoulder. “Marco, please. It’s ok—“

 

“It isn’t!!” I shouted. I wanted to turn around and yell at him, but the thought of David seeing my face right now made my insides hurt. I cared too much about what he thought of me. 

 

I closed my eyes and willed myself away from his home. I opened my eyes in my field of stone ruins. I took a deep breath of fresh, crisp air, and had one brief moment of stillness before my fucking feelings overwhelmed me again. 

 

I dropped to my knees. Tears sprang to my eyes, and my breath ripped in and out of me. I collapsed to the ground. 

 

Even now I couldn’t really tell what I was feeling. The inside of my chest hurt.  I think, maybe, I was scared. 

 

I thought about all the times David and I were.. *together*.  I tried to remember what I thought about. Tried to figure out what he knew.  And why did it matter so much?  He wasn’t phased. He wasn’t.. judging me or anything. 

 

He was just seeing me as I really was— which is not the image I tried so hard to project.  What I really was.. was a stupid, sensitive kid, and that’s NOT how I wanted him to see me!

 

I felt so weak. 

 

I hated myself for leaving. I wanted David more than anything else right now, but I couldn’t bare anyone seeing me like this. 

 

Boys don’t fucking cry. 

—

(Narrator: David)

 

“Marco don’t—“ But he was already gone. 

 

I sighed and turned to enter my kitchen. I leaned on the counter and just stared at the wall for several minutes. 

 

I could still feel him, or the energy he left behind. I wasn’t sure which. 

 

It hurt. 

 

Marco was afraid, and when he was afraid he got angry. I don’t know if he did it on purpose. It seemed like an automatic response. Maybe he used to do it on purpose, and now it just happened. It was nearly instantaneous. Fear. Anger. They were almost the same thing for Marco. 

 

Even as an empath, Marco was difficult to read. He was emotionally dishonest with *himself*, which made things difficult. He didn’t know how he felt most of the time. It all had a wash of anger and aggression over the top of it. Everything was tinted red. 

 

But underneath...

 

I noticed a smudge on my glasses, and I realized my face was wet.  I pressed my hands hard against the countertop and clenched my jaw.  I was swallowed up by a deep sadness. It came suddenly, and viscerally. 

 

I couldn’t keep my feet. 

 

My knees buckled and I gripped the edge of the counter as I went down. Then I just sat on the kitchen floor and sobbed for... well.  Time isn’t real. 

 

The feeling faded away almost as suddenly as it’d come.  I felt still, and I just breathed for a moment. I knew.. I knew that I was calm now because Marco was hurting himself. 

 

That wave of grief belonged to him, and he was shoving it back down the best way he knew how. 

 

I wanted to go to him, but I didn’t. He needed space.  He needed to stabilize himself, and he couldn’t do that if I was there. He couldn’t do it if *anyone* was there.  He would meet me with anger, and anything after that would be worse. 

 

So I waited. 

 

I didn’t like being alone in my apartment, but I sat down and I waited. There was a tremor inside my chest every few minutes or so, followed by a heavy stillness.  My mind was unusually blank. I tried to think about what I should do. What I should say to Marco. But I was just..

 

Blank. 

 

And what could I possibly say at this point?  What words would make this any better??

 

I felt blank for a while. Time was weird, but it seemed like a long time since the last time my chest quivered. I closed my eyes and thought about Marco. 

 

I was outside his door. 

 

Did he lock me out?

 

I knocked. 

 

“Marco? It’s David. Can we.. talk?”

 

I felt him hear me, and I felt him hesitate.  He wanted my comfort, but he was afraid he wouldn’t keep it together if I gave it to him.  Thinking about it was making him crack already. 

 

“Please, Marco?” I said to his door. “I *promise* you, it’s ok. You’re allowed to have feelings. We don’t even have to talk. Please, just let me in?”

 

The door creaked open, and I had to look down a little further than usual to see his face. He looked so young. His hair was all curly and unkempt, and his cloths looked like hand-me-downs.  The fabric was thinning and there were holes mended with thread that didn’t match. He glowered up at me. 

 

“H-how old are you?” I asked. 

 

“How the fuck should I know?!” He answered harshly and retreated inside, leaving the door open behind him. 

 

I followed him and stopped the moment I was inside. 

 

It was weird in here. His stone ruins were still here, but they were somehow inside?  There was an old couch against one wall. Above it hung black and white photos of family that I couldn’t focus on. They always looked blurry and indistinct. 

 

One of the stones ran along the wall, creating a thin hallway, at the end of which was a door. I recognized it as the closet Marco’s mother would toss him in when she wanted him out of her sight. 

 

When I didn’t see Marco anywhere, I went to the closet and knocked quietly. 

 

“Marco?”

 

“What?” 

 

“You don’t need to be in there—“

 

“This is where I fucking belong!!” His voice was startling (even through a layer of wood), and I flinched. 

 

I opened the closet and crouched down. Marco scowled at me fiercely through his tears.  A mix of conflicting emotions radiated from him. I reached for him cautiously, and he backed further into the closet. 

 

“No!  Don’t fucking do this!”  He shouted. “I just.. I just got it all...”

 

“I know,” I said, “I know you just got everything shoved down again, and I’m sorry. But I’m not going to let you sit here and punish yourself for being human.”

 

I crawled into the closet. I pushed through coats and whatever random junk was on the floor. Marco was curled up in a tight little ball, all the way in the back. I gathered him into my arms and held him tight. 

 

I hummed to him, and rocked back and forth. 

 

Marco cried. 

 

His small hands gripped the front of my shirt.  He pushed his face into the middle of my chest, and I kissed the top of his head. 

 

Marco choked and gasped for air between sobs. My shirt was reaching its saturation point. 

 

I focused for a moment then dug into my pocket. 

 

“Here, Marco.”  I shifted, and pulled his hands away, and wiped his face with a tissue.  “It’s ok,” I murmured. He was beginning to panic as he choked on his own fluids. “Shh, it’s ok.  Take a breath, and try to hold it.”

 

Marco held his breath for two seconds before the sobs broke through and fresh tears spilled over his cheeks. 

 

“It’s ok,” I said, “try again. It’s ok.”

 

I calmed him down to where he wasn’t sobbing and struggling to breathe. The tears were still coming steadily. I gave Marco a handful of tissues. 

 

“Do you want to get out of this closet now?” I asked, and Marco shook his head. “It’s no different in the light, Marco.”

 

“You can see me in the light,” he mumbled. 

 

“Marco..” I didn’t know what to say. 

 

I pulled a coat down from its hanger and laid it out over the clutter. I laid down on it and extended my arm to him. 

 

“Come here then,” I said, and Marco crawled to me. 

 

We curled up together in the bottom of the closet and stayed there.